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“An account of tragic human experience, all too little known, in the
words of those who lived through it. It is not only a fascinating story but a unique
and valuable historical document.” —New York Review of Books

AFTER THE

REICH

THE BRUTAL HISTORY DF THE
ALLIED DCCUPATIDN

Giles MacDonogii

PRAISE FOR AFTER THE REICH

“In After the Reich, Giles MacDonogh, a British author of several books about
German history, chronicles the final weeks of the war and the occupation that
followed. His ambitious mission: to offer a comprehensive, unsparing account
of what happened to the German people when the tables were turned.
MacDonogh works to assemble a massive indictment of the victors, and his
array of detail and individual stories is both impressive and exhausting.”

—Washington Post Book World

“In his meticulously researched book After the Reich, British-born Giles
MacDonogh, an expert in German history, offers a different view of this
‘noble’ war’s aftermath. With unsparing detail and ample documentation, he
chronicles the events after the victory in Europe in May 1945 to the Berlin
airlift four years later, and exposes the slippery slope of the moral high
ground many of us believed the Allies possessed during those years. . . . One
cannot read After the Reich without thinking of the phrase ‘winning the war
but losing the peace’ as the book draws a line from the occupation directly
to the division of Berlin and the Cold War that gripped much of the world
and informed foreign relations for the next 60 years. Scars across Europe
from the post—World War II era remain, and MacDonogh has picked the
scab at a time of modern war and occupation when, perhaps, the world
most needs to examine an old wound.” — Boston Globe

“VE Day on May 8, 1945 mocked the subsequent condition of Europe. As
crowds in London, Paris, and New York celebrated the declaration of peace,
much more misery and death lay ahead. Two, perhaps three million Germans
perished in the years that followed: in captivity; from hunger and casual vio¬
lence; and above all, during the expulsions of ethnic Germans from the east,
[on] which the western Allies had agreed with the Russians before hostilities
ended. Giles MacDonogh’s book chronicles this saga from the liberation of
Vienna to the 1948 Berlin airlift and 1949 formation of Konrad Adenauer’s
government in Bonn. It makes grimmer reading than most war stories,
because there is litde redemptive courage or virtue. Here is a catalogue of
pillage, rape, starvation, inhumanity, and suffering on a titanic scale. . . . The
book brings together many stories that deserve to be much better known in
the West.” — Max Hastings, Sunday Times (London)

“Giles MacDonogh’s After the Reich is important and timely. He has a pro¬
found understanding of Germany, which he communicates in a humane

and engaging style. Though he is sensitive to the sufferings of the Germans
after the war, he never loses sight of the fact that this was an occupation
that the Western powers got right. After the Reich is a remarkable book,
with a rich cast of characters, and it has oblique relevance to our own prob¬
lems in the wider world.”

—Michael Burleigh, author of The Third Reich:

A New History and Sacred Causes

“Mr. MacDonogh has given readers the history of an era all too often
ignored.” — Contemporary Review

“The bitter experiences of a defeated Germany have often been forgotten.
MacDonoghs book, drawing heavily on the often moving testimony of
those who lived through them, brings them brilliantly into the light.”

—Sunday Times

“Unique and important.” — Guardian

“Mass deportations, murder, and brutalization of helpless noncombatants—
these are the crimes one readily associates with Hitlers minions as they
ravaged their way across Europe. But MacDonogh, a journalist with partic¬
ular expertise in German history, convincingly illustrates that this was the
fate of millions of German-speaking civilians in the period from the fall of
Vienna to the Soviets to the Berlin airlift. . . . Given the horrors visited upon
Europe by the Nazis, one might be tempted to consider these atrocities as
just retribution. However, MacDonogh s eloquent account of the suffering
of these people is, one hopes, able to evoke strong feelings of both revulsion
and compassion from most readers.” — ALA Booklist

“This absorbing study of the Allied occupation of Germany and Austria
from 1945 to 1949 shows that the end of WWII by no means ended the
suffering. A vengeful Red Army visited on German women an ordeal of
mass rape, while looting the Soviet occupation zone of almost everything
of value. . . . The result is a sobering view of how vengeance stained
Allied victory.” — Publishers Weekly

“Throughout time it has been the victor who has written history, but here
historian MacDonogh examines the darker side of the Allied occupation of
defeated Germany. . . . Of interest to students of modern Europe, com¬
plementing W. G. Sebald’s On the Natural History of Destruction (2003) and
other studies of history from the point of view of the vanquished.”

—Kirkus Reviews

After the Reich

The Brutal History of the Allied Occupation

GILES MacDONOGH

BASIC

BOOKS

A Member of the Perseus Books Group
New York

A Member of the Perseus Books Group
Paperback first published in 2009 by Basic Books

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever
without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied
in critical articles and reviews. For information, address Basic Books,
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First published in Great Britain in 2007
by John Murray (Publishers)

A division of Hodder Headline

A CIP catalog record for this book is
available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN-13: 978-0-465-00337-2
ISBN-10: 0-465-00337-0
Paperback ISBN-13: 978-0-465-00338-9

Typeset in Bembo by M Rules

10 987654321

For Joseph Maximilian Cornelius MacDonogh
born 8 December 2002

Absumet heres Caecuba dignior
servata centum clavibus et mere
tinget pavimentum superbo,
pontificum potiore cenis.

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Contents

Illustrations

Preface

Chronology

xvii

Map

Introduction

PART I: Chaos

1. The Fall of Vienna 25

2. Wild Times: A Picture of Liberated Central Europe

in 1945 45

3. Berlin 95

4. Expulsions from Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Yugoslavia 125

5. Home to the Reich! Recovered Territories in the

Prussian East 162

PART II: Allied Zones

Prologue 199

6. Life in the Russian Zone 201

7. Life in the American Zone 227

8. Life in the British Zone 250

9. Life in the French Zone 269

10. Austria’s Zones and Sectors 278

11. Life in All Four Zones 314

PART III: Crime and Punishment

12. Guilt 339

13. Black Market 372

14. Light Fingers 381

15. Where are our Men? 392

16. The Trials 429

17. The Little Fish 451

CONTENTS

PART IV: The Road to Freedom

18. Peacemaking in Potsdam 471

19. The Great Freeze 496

20. The Berlin Airlift and the Beginnings of Economic

Recovery 517

Conclusion 542

Notes 547

Further Reading 585

Index 589

viii

Illustrations

1. The inhabitants of East Prussia making their way across the
frozen inland sea

2. Silesians making their way west

3. Sudetenlander being transported in cattle trucks

4. Waste being removed from the trains

5. and 6. Sudeten expellees waiting to board the train to Germany

7. Sudeten Catholics hear an open-air Mass

8. Silesians assemble in the streets of their town prior to their
expulsion

9. The Oder at Frankfurt.

10. The ruins of the White Stork synagogue in Wroclaw
(Breslau) in 1991

11. Sudetenlander rounded up in Bergreichenstein pushing their
goods to the assembly camp

12—14. Czech officials inspect Germans’ suitcases for anything of value

15. The Little Fortress in Theresienstadt with German prisoners

16. Ruins of the State Opera House and Jockey Club, Vienna

17. The Cathedral or ‘Steffi’, Vienna

18. The Graben shopping street, Vienna

19. Road sign concerning the road to Vienna

20. Notice concerning food rations for Berliners, 13 May 1945

21. Silesian children receiving food from the Western Allies

22. Silesian children looking forward to a new life in West
Germany

23. Victor Gollancz with some severely malnourished German
children

24. A shoe belonging to a German child

25. Sir Robert Birley

26. Lord Pakenham, later Earl of Longford, the second British
Minister for Germany and Austria

ILLUSTRATIONS

27. Marshal Koniev and General Sir Dick McCreery award the
cups at a race meeting at the Freudenau in Vienna

28. British Pilot Officer W. K. Sewell crashes his aircraft

29. Hitler’s ‘Kraft-durch-Freude’ car — the ‘Beetle’

30. A drunken American officer sleeps through a striptease in his
Darmstadt mess, April 1948

The author and publishers would like to thank the following for permis¬
sion to reproduce illustrations: Plates 1, 2, 8, 21, 22 and 29, Herder-
Institut Marburg, Bildarchiv; 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 15, Sudetendeutsches
Archiv; 11, 12, 13 and 14, Oberhausmuseum, Passau; 19, Sebastian
Cody; 23, 24 and 26, Private Collection; 25, Provost and Fellows of Eton
College; 27, Bob McCreery; 28, Dennis Sewell; 29, Volkswagen AG; 30,
akg-images/Tony Vaccaro. Plates 9 and 10 are from the author’s collec¬
tion; plates 16, 17 and 18 are taken from Josef Schoner, Wiener Tagebuch
1944/1945, edited by Eva-Marie Csaky, Franz Matscher and Gerald
Stourzh, and reproduced with permission. Every effort has been made to
clear permissions. If permission has not been granted please contact the
publisher who will include a credit in subsequent printings and editions.

T his book is about the experience of the Germans in defeat. It is about
the occupation imposed on them following the criminal campaigns of
Adolf Hitler. To some extent it is a study in resignation, their acceptance
of any form of indignity in the knowledge of the great wrongs perpetrated
by the National Socialist state. Not all of these Germans were involved in
these crimes, by any means, but with few exceptions they recognised that
their suffering was an inevitable result of them. I make no excuses for the
crimes the Nazis committed, nor do I doubt for one moment the terrible
desire for revenge that they aroused.

I have tried as much as possible to use individual accounts to give the
flavour of the time. Many of these are by women. There is an obvious
reason for this: there were not many men left. Those who survived did so
in a variety of places, from internment camps to Soviet mines. The subject
is so vast that I have had to use a broad brush. Some elements are
immensely well covered, such as the American Zone and the beginnings of
the Cold War. It was the start of the American century and the end of iso¬
lation, after all. Other parts of the story are hardly told: the French
occupation, for example. Because I wished to give the tenor of everyday
life at the time, I have divided the book into four parts: the first looks at the
chaos that followed the end of the war within the lands that were then
Germany, and the punitive stance of the Allies; the second looks at the day-
to-day existence of the Germans and Austrians; the third examines crime
and punishment; and the fourth introduces the chronology and records the
major political developments from Potsdam to the foundation of the two
German republics. The Austrian State Treaty lies outside the scope of this
book, as it did not occur until 1955.

My ‘Germans’ are the German-speaking peoples as they are massed in
central Europe. I have therefore included Austria, which called itself
‘German Austria’ until it was annexed in 1938, and subsequently became
part of the Greater German Reich. I mention the South Tyrol in Italy,

PREFACE

because Austrians saw that as part of their lands, as well as other satellites in
Yugoslavia, for instance. I have also examined the plight of the so-called
‘ethnic’ Germans who were expelled, mostly from Czechoslovakia, but also
from Hungary and Romania. Elsewhere ‘Germany’ is defined by its 1937
borders, and I have referred to towns and villages by the names Germans
would have known. Where possible I have included the Polish or Czech
names too.

Although it was my first intention to study the German-speaking
peoples as they suffered their chastisements on the ground, I soon realised
that it was impossible to make any sense of what was happening without
reference to what was taking place on Mount Olympus: the Allied com¬
mand HQs and the political forces behind them. I had to travel de haut en
has and vice versa — to examine the effect of the occupation on the
Germans, but also to look upstairs at what the Olympians were doing, and
see what they had in store. On the other hand I have always tried to focus
on Germans, not on the Allies.

The book is the fruit of my long acquaintance with both Germany and
Austria. My interest began during a short stay in Cologne in my mid-teens
and a meeting with one of the two modern German novelists whose writ¬
ings have most coloured this book. I was a guest of the Boll family and one
afternoon the later Nobel Prize winner Heinrich Boll came to tea. He
introduced me to Underberg, the viciously powerful bitters, and I can still
feel the wave of fire travelling up from my stomach to my cheeks. We
argued about Irish Republicanism, which he favoured. It wasn’t until
much later that I began to respect his books, and admire the picture of the
returned soldier in those early stories and novels.

I met Ernst Jiinger many years later, through my friend the eccentric
hotelier Andreas Kleber, who was then still in possession of his family
hotel, the Kleber Post in Saulgau in Wlirttemberg (incidentally one of the
first venues for the writers’ group Gruppe 47). One night I had dinner
with Jiinger there and the two of us spoke to ZDF television about the
meaning of Prussia. Jtinger was a writer from the generation before Boll,
but outlived the younger man by decades. He was a mere ninety-seven
when I met him and had another six years to live. Again conversation
turned to drink: the bottle of Pommard he consumed with his wife every
night (he had two-thirds of it, he confessed), and his real love -
Chateauneuf-du-Pape.

He became more serious when he complained that he could not wear
his Pour le Merite medal, which he had won in the Great War, when he
had been left for dead on the field of battle. He was, I think, the last sur-

xii

PREFACE

viving military holder of the medal. The Allies had swiftly banned the
wearing of decorations, and the Federal Republic has followed suit. War
could not be officially celebrated, and that went for acts of heroism too. I
recalled the First World War memorial in the little park in Berlin-
Friedenau where I had stayed with friends. The inscription had been
chipped off: in Germany such things were taboo, while in Britain war
memorials were still placed at the focal point of any town or hamlet. In
Germany there were no more heroes. The Germans had lost the right to
them.

Friends of mine, even published historians, have often told me that the
Germans ‘deserved what they got’ in 1945: it was a just punishment for
their behaviour in occupied lands and for the treatment of the Jews at
home. This book is not intended to excuse the Germans, but it does not
hesitate to expose the victorious Allies in their treatment of the enemy at
the peace, for in most cases it was not the criminals who were raped,
starved, tortured or bludgeoned to death but women, children and old
men. What I record and sometimes call into question here is the way that
many people were allowed to exact that revenge by military commanders,
even by government ministers; and that when they did so they often
killed the innocent, not the guilty. The real murderers all too often died
in their beds.

It is true that some of the old men and a lot of the women had voted for
Flitler, but it should be recalled once again that he never achieved more
than 37.4 per cent of the vote in a free election, and in the last one he was
down to 33.1 per cent. 1 That meant that, even at his most popular, 62.6 per
cent of the German electorate were unmoved by his programme. Of
course, at that point it did not propose the slaughter of the European Jews
(he never made any public statement on this subject other than dark allu¬
sions that have become easier to read in retrospect); nor did it mention his
desire to confront Soviet Russia and enslave the Slavs; nor did it hint that
he would eventually bring the roof down on the German house and kill a
large number of its inmates. It is possible that he might have secured more
votes that way, but I think not. To make all Germans responsible for the
relatively docile Flitler of 1933 is to apply the Allied weapon of collective
guilt. Collective guilt makes them all responsible: women, old men and
children, even newborn babies — they were German and they could also be
slaughtered or starved to death. Indeed, the Soviet propagandist Ilya
Ehrenburg exhorted the Red Army not to save ‘the child in its mothers
womb’. 2

There were many Russians, Poles and Czechs who were not ashamed to

xiii

PREFACE

feel that way in the heady days of liberation. Some of them were as young
as fifteen at the time they joined ad Iwc police squads and they may still be
alive today and healthy; but I think few of them would now own up to the
acts of terrible violence they committed.

If children are included in collective guilt, this could be accepted on the
basis that they were going to grow up to be Germans and therefore possibly
Nazis. Then, of course, we need to determine at what age a child becomes
a German, and can be blamed for the crimes of his country. It is clearly not
twenty-one (when many are already in the army), or eighteen (when they
were likely to have been called up, and were often among the bravest and
most ruthless fighters), or sixteen (when they had already been drafted into
anti-aircraft units or, like Gunter Grass, about to be forced into the SS), or
indeed younger (Hitler Youth boys as young as twelve distinguished them¬
selves in the Battle of Berlin). Maybe in an indoctrinated society a cut-off
point for guilt needs to be imposed at seven, and, if so, a date needs to be
fixed when the child had attained that age. Was it 1933 or 1945 (twelve
years after the last free election)?

Of course the real reason why the Allies imposed the idea of collective
guilt was that it was a useful way of depriving the Germans of rights and
national sovereignty. Once their guilt was assumed, they could be punished.
They were to be at the mercy of the Allies until their conquerors had
decided what to do with them, and in the meantime they could not protest
about their treatment.

Then there is the issue of tit-for-tat. The Anglo-Americans wisely fought
shy of exacting reparations because they realised that they would then have
to pay to feed the Germans; and that if they left the Germans an industrial
base they might be able to feed themselves. The tit-for-tat school of retri¬
bution and revenge goes back a long, long way. Historically minded
Germans might blame the French for the Thirty Years War (which caused
bloodshed on a similar scale to the Great War) or for the territorial ambi¬
tions of Louis XIV More might recall the Napoleonic invasion of Germany
and the occupation of Prussia. Bismarck was famously intractable in 1871
when the French demanded mercy, saying there was not a tree in his coun¬
try that did not bear the scars of the French years. Then the jackboot was on
the other foot. On each occasion there were territorial cessions and crip¬
pling reparations to pay. Someone needed to cry halt. But the business
surfaced again at Versailles in 1919, and there was the same punitive peace.
After the Second World War most wise men understood that a peace treaty
would have been a farce. It was left to what Churchill called ‘our con¬
sciences to civilisation’ to determine how the enemy was to be treated.

xiv

PREFACE

Post-war Germany is a problem that has taxed me for years and it is hard
to know now who has helped me with this particular book. Some, perhaps
many of them, are already dead. Some names stand out in my mind, others
were often nameless people I met on my travels, and who unburdened
themselves over a late-night drink, or a second glass at lunchtime.

In London my friends Karl-Heinz and Angela Bohrer have been con¬
stant in their encouragement over the years. Karl-Heinz was kind enough
to give me an extensive interview on his childhood in post-war Germany
Angela long ago gave me a copy of her mother Charlotte von der
Schulenburgs privately printed memoirs. I also learned much from the
writings of her aunt, Tisa von der Schulenburg, and from my meetings
with her. My neighbour in Kentish Town Nick Jacobs, owner of the
Gennan-specialist publisher Libris, was kind enough to lend books and
copy interesting articles. In Oxford I thank Sudhir Hazareesingh; Robert
Gildea for providing me with some suggestions for reading on the French
occupation of Germany; and Blair Worden for explaining the role of Hugh
Trevor-Roper.

Germany provides me with many memories and much assistance, from
my friend Ursula Heinzelmann in Berlin; Gertrud Loewe; Eva Raps in
Wiesbaden; and in the wine country growers told me of their experiences
of the immediate post-war years. The late Prince Franz von Sayn-
Wittgenstein in Munich sent me his privately printed memoirs; Daria
Fiirstin von Thurn und Taxis the unpublished memoirs of her uncle Willy;
and Christiane von Maasburg gave me permission to quote from the
Magisterarbeit she wrote on Nikolaus von Maasburg. A kind lady in
Hildesheim recounted harrowing details of the trek she undertook from
Pomerania as a child of six; the retired border guard Captain Schmidt in
Coburg told me no less moving stories of his childhood in Silesia; an
anonymous man in Malbork, Poland, briefly informed me of how he
evaded the Polish authorities after the war; an ethnic German woman in
Opolne offered to pray for me, if I gave her ten marks; a former Danzig
policeman I met in Titisee-Neustadt told me about his time in an
American camp in Passau, surrounded by members of the French Division
Charlemagne.

In Vienna, enormous thanks are due above all to my friends Christopher
Wentworth-Stanley and Sebastian Cody. Christopher found me literature
on post-war Austria and read a part of the manuscript, as did Ambassador
Erwin Matsch. Sebastian was kind enough to read and comment on a
number of chapters. Johannes Popper von Podhragy sent me articles from
his late father’s archive. Dr Wolfgang Mueller provided me with much help

PREFACE

and a useful book list. On Lake Bled, Janez Fajfar showed me the won¬
derful mural in the hotel he has run for decades in the palace where Tito
and Stalin fell out in 1947. In Prague I was counselled by Dr Anna Bryson
and in Sofia by my old friend Professor Evgeni Dainov.

I am also grateful to all those who helped locate or donated pictures:
John Aycoth in Washington, Sebastian Cody and Christopher Wentworth-
Stanley in Vienna, Lady Antonia Fraser, Livia Gollancz and Dennis Sewell
in London, Manfred Pranghofer and Rudi Muller of the Oberhaus
Museum in Passau, Bob McCreery, Klaus Mohr of the Sudetendeutsches
Archiv in Munich, Bengt von zur Miihlen of Chronos Films in Berlin, Eva
Reinhold-Weisz ofBohlau Verlag in Vienna, Elisabeth Ruge of the Berlin
Verlag in Berlin, Thomas Urban of the Herder Institut in Marburg, Mrs C.
Skinner at Eton College, Manfred Grieger and Ulrike Gutzmann at
Volkswagen in Vienna.

My thanks are due to the staffs of the British Library and the German
Historical Institute. At John Murray I am grateful to my editor Roland
Philipps, to Caro Westmore and Rowan Yapp, to Douglas Matthews, for
making me yet another exemplary index; and to Peter James, whose
demanding questions sent me back to my books over and over again.

I would also like to thank my family for their patience, especially in the
last days when my body was over-charged with adrenalin and I was able to
think and talk of little else.

Giles MacDonogh
London, October 2006

Chronology

February 1945

Yalta Conference

30 March 1945

Danzig falls

8 April 1945

The Red Army enters Vienna

9 April 1945

Konigsberg falls

13 April 1945

Vienna capitulates

2 May 1945

Berlin falls

6 May 1945

Breslau capitulates

7 May 1945

Germany surrenders

23 May 1945

The Donitz government is arrested

5 June 1945

Germany is divided into zones

9 July 1945

Austrian zones finalised

17 July-2 August 1945

Potsdam Conference

22 July 1945

Western Allies move into Vienna

30 July 1945

First meeting of the Allied Control Council

15 August 1945

The end of the Second World War

September 1945

London CFM (Conference of Foreign
Ministers)

25 November 1945

Austrian general election

December 1945

Moscow CFM

5 March 1946

Churchill’s Iron Curtain speech

July 1946

Paris CFM

September 1946

Paris Peace Conference

6 September 1946

Byrnes’s Stuttgart speech

22 October 1946

Berlin elections

12 December 1946

New York CFM

16 January 1947

London CFM

25 February 1947

Prussia abolished by Control Council Law 46

March 1947

Moscow CFM

June 1947

Robert Schuman president of the council in
France. Paris CFM. Marshall’s Harvard speech

xvii

CHRONOLOGY

November 1947
6—7 December 1947
17 March 1948
17—18 March 1948

20 March 1948
31 March—2 April 1948
April to June 1948
7 June 1948
17June 1948
24June 1948
25 June 1948
1 July 1948
27 July 1948

9 September 1948
11-12 May 1949

London CFM

People s Congress for Unity in East Berlin
Brussels Pact and Prague Coup
Second People s Congress for Unity in East
Berlin

Russians leave the Control Council

Little Berlin Blockade

London CFM

London Agreement

The Russians quit the Konnnandatura

Motorway blocked to Berlin

Introduction of the D-mark

Berlin cut off from the West

London CFM agrees to create a West German

state

Reichstag demonstration in Berlin
Traffic resumed to Berlin

xviii

This page intentionally left blank

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Introduction

In the years 1945 to 1946 Germany was a collection of denouncers,
black-marketeers, prisoners, refugees from justice and tireless
whingers. The Allies announced that the Germans needed to be han¬
dled with a rod of iron. It was pure nonsense.

Franz Prinz zu Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifziige (lurch die Landschaften
meines Lebens, privately printed, Munich 2000 , 166

T he war had been the bloodiest yet, particularly for civilians. Laying
aside some three million dead German soldiers, by 7 May 1945 at
least 1.8 million German civilians had perished and 3.6 million homes had
been destroyed (20 per cent of the total), leaving 7.5 million homeless; and
the bloodshed was going to continue for a lot longer. As many as 16.5 mil¬
lion Germans were to be driven from their homes. Of these some two and
a quarter million would die during the expulsions from the south and
east. 1 *

It was called die Stunde null (Zero Hour), though it was nothing of the
kind. Germany was wrecked from top to bottom, but memories were still
acute, the country had a past, and a large body of people who had sup¬
ported the ancien regime needed to be assessed and rendered harmless. As it
was, like Weimar, many of them were carried over into the new post-Nazi
world. 2 There were simply too many of them, and most had lost their faith
in Hitler when his armies were defeated at Stalingrad.

In May 1945 National Socialism was as good as dead. Apart from a few
desperate ideologists, as anxious to save their skins as defend their creed,
the vast majority of Germans had already come to the conclusion that it
had been founded on a terrible fallacy. Defeat was one thing, but, as the

* Gerhard Ziemer gives the figure of 2 , 280 , 000 , Alfred de Zayas 2 , 211 , 000 .

INTRODUCTION

dramatist Carl Zuckmayer pointed out a few years after the end of the
conflict, Germans — even those in the Hitler Youth and the Waffen-SS —
were already conscious of the country’s ‘moral bankruptcy’. The defeated
Germans surprised their conquerors by their docility. They offered next to
no resistance to them. They did what they were told. Of the promised
Werewolves — Nazi guerrillas trained to fight in occupied territory —
there was virtually no sign.

To some extent Germans believed the Allied propaganda: the
Russians, the Americans, the British and the French had come to ‘liber¬
ate’ them. The Allies may have freed the Germans of their National
Socialist shackles, but they did a lot of other things to them first. The
novelist and psychiatrist Alfred Doblin records a conversation he had
with a well-brought-up girl in the Black Forest. ‘We received the Allies
with so much joy’, she told Doblin, ‘as liberators. And in the first week
everything made us happy. The Allies were so lucky with us. Then they
started requisitioning rooms, hotels, flats; we could take nothing with us.
That took the wind out of our sails.’ Doblin told her that the war wasn’t
over yet. She asked him when it would be concluded. He said: ‘When
the ruins are knocked down and the rubble cleared away, and when new
houses have been built where everyone can have a home and they can
come out of their shelters and sheds. When the economy has taken off
once more, when politics are stable again. Fraulein E., you are young.
You will live to see the peace. Later, when you look back on the present
time, you will be astonished that you were young enough to believe that
it was peace.’ 3

For some Germans defeat was what they were waiting for: it fulfilled
their most eager hopes. In his dark first novel, Kreuz ohne Liebe, written in
the years immediately following German defeat, Heinrich Boll explores
the feelings of an anti-Nazi who has been fighting in the army from day
one. Christoph Bachem’s brother has been shot. He is a Nazi who repents
in the end and saves Christoph’s life. Christoph’s best friend has spent the
war in a concentration camp, a victim of the same brother. Christoph
enjoys a brief sojourn with his wife, Cornelia, before losing her for good
after deserting and fleeing to the west. He indulges his feelings of utter
nihilism. ‘No,’ he said tiredly, ‘I want no more. It is horrible to have been
a soldier in a war for six years and always to have had to wish that it would
be lost; to see the collapse, and at the same time to know that whatever
power succeeds it, and kicks the daylights out of the corpse of this state,
will quite probably be equally diabolic; the devil possesses all the power in
this world, and a change of power is only a change of rank among devils,

INTRODUCTION

that I believe for certain.’* Bachem has no faith in the Allies either. As he
tells Cornelia,

Do you believe, then, that these people who are about to conquer us with
their rubber soles and tins of Spam, will ever understand what we have suf¬
fered? Do you believe they will understand what it feels like to be
showered with their bombs and shells and at the same time to be sullied by
this diabolic state; what it means to be crushed between these two mill¬
stones? They simply cannot have suffered as much as us, and since Christ’s
death there has been a hierarchy of suffering in which we will remain the
victors, without the world ever learning or understanding what it was we
felt . 4

The Allies may have chosen to style themselves as ‘liberators’ but they
came in hate. In the cases of the Russians, French, Poles and Czechs, this
was understandable. To be occupied is to be violated, even when it is not
coupled with regular atrocities. The atrocities committed by the SS and the
Wehrmacht in Poland and Russia were horrendous, and they were not
lacking in France and Czechoslovakia either. It is hardly surprising that
there were acts of revenge. Any SS man found in the east was liable to be
subjected to the most fabulous torture and death. Such things we may
understand, but surely never condone.

As the Soviets chose to introduce their own brand of ideology along the
way, controlled ‘revolutions’ were carried out too, by the ‘Lublin’ Poles
(those patronised by Moscow rather than the West) and the Czechs. The
middle and upper classes were ruthlessly dispossessed. Their homes were
sequestered, while they themselves were imprisoned, tortured and in many
cases killed. In the Prussian east the old, Junker squirearchy was wiped out
without mercy.

The French worked the hatred out of their systems in a few acts of grisly
violence. Demonstrations of gross brutality were comparatively rare in the
British army. For a few years Germany became another colony, dealing
with the Germans a burden placed on the Christian white man. It was like
India all over again. The Americans, however, saw it differently: although
both the British and the Americans used films and photographs of the
camps to encourage their soldiers to be hard-hearted and to chastise
Germans, it seems to have had more effect on American GIs, who took
their brief that much more seriously — that is, until the politicians decided

* To some extent he based the book on his own family. As a teenager the author was priv¬
ileged to meet his two brothers. One had literally shot himself in the foot to avoid fighting
Hitler’s war.

INTRODUCTION

the German people were to be wooed. There was a PR war to win now,
against the new enemy, the Soviet Union.

With the exception of the death camps in Poland, which had already
been closed and blown up by the Germans, all the most infamous con¬
centration camps together with work camps were put back to use by the
Allies: Auschwitz-Birkenau, 5 Sachsenhausen and Buchenwald for the
Russians; Dachau for the Americans and Bergen-Belsen for the British,
not to mention the grisly Ebensee in the Salzkammergut, where the
Americans kept 44,000 SS men. This strikes us as disgusting now, but
there were obvious logistical reasons for using them, together with an
understandable temptation to ‘rub the Germans’ noses in their own mess’.
Central Europe was teeming with homeless DPs (displaced persons) who
were in the process of resettlement after ethnic cleansing. Millions of
POWs were also held in camps. In the east they were earmarked for work
details and they needed to be housed. Some were to be allotted a more
sinister fate. They too needed to be put in a secure place until their des¬
tiny was decided.

While the fate of the Jews shocked the British and the Americans
and — particularly in the case of the Americans — sharpened their attitudes
towards the conquered nation, the Soviet authorities made little of it. The
anonymous author of A Woman in Berlin, for example, was surprised: ‘no
Russian has so far reproached me for the German persecution of the
Jews’. 6

When the Allies invaded Germany in the first half of 1945, they came bear¬
ing war aims and plans. They had gone to war because they had been
provoked by the Axis powers. Now the desire was to crush Germany and
its allies. ‘Their effort to emerge victorious included neither an aim to
destroy any segment of the German population nor a plan to save any part
of Germany’s victims,’ one historian has written. ‘The post-war punish¬
ment of perpetrators was largely a consequence of afterthoughts. The
liberation of the survivors was almost entirely a by-product of victory.
The Allies could harmonise with their war effort all sorts of denunciations
of the Germans, but there was no disposition to deviate from military
goals for the deliverance of the Jews. In that sense the destruction of the
Jews presented itself as a problem with which the Allies could not effec¬
tively deal.’ 7

The Allies needed to win first, before they could even think about
how they would clear up the mess. The first war aim was to establish
security, which the Treaty of Versailles of 1919 had singularly failed to do.

INTRODUCTION

At first there were only the British. When Churchill came to power in
1940 ‘appeasement’ was already a dirty word. ‘Vansittartism’, which saw the
Germans as a tribe of incorrigible louts from the time of Tacitus to the
present day, had become the dominant thinking in governing circles. It was
developed by the diplomat Lord Vansittart, who spent part of the war
giving radio broadcasts which examined different Germans in turn, point¬
ing out how nasty they all were. Vansittartism inspired historians to search
archives for further evidence of the deep-seated evilness of the Germans.
To some extent it is still alive today. 8

The first Vansittartite directive to emerge from Whitehall was ‘absolute
silence’. Officially, at least, Her Majesty’s Government would not talk to
Germans. With time ‘absolute silence’ gave way to ‘unconditional surren¬
der’. There was to be no negotiated peace this time. The opposite school
was that of the historian E. H. Carr, who thought that a civilised Germany
was merely a question of finding the right man. In Britain’s first studies for
a post-war Germany there was discussion of reparations: Germany would
thereby be deprived of the means to make war. From the summer of 1943
the task of planning the occupation was handed over to Clement Attlee,
who would become one of the ‘Big Three’ at the Potsdam Conference 9
when the Conservatives lost the July 1945 election.

The Western Allies tended to agree with Robert Vansittart that the
Second War had been largely caused by the perpetrators of the First, and
that meant Prussia. It was a long time before they came to terms with the
idea of Nazism as a non-Prussian movement. The Atlantic Charter of 14
April 1941 had a little flavour of Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points
twenty-three years before. An expression of the principles on which the
peace was to be based, it was drawn up by Churchill and amended by
Roosevelt. The American president added the passages condemning
aggressive war and calling for German disarmament. 10 It was followed by
the Declaration of the United Nations signed by twenty-six governments
on 1 January 1942, an agreement to uphold the Atlantic Charter.

The first meeting between Churchill and Roosevelt to discuss war aims
was held in Newfoundland in August 1941. Churchill was more pragmatic
than Roosevelt; the American leader was much more hostile to the
Germans. He had been partially educated in Germany and he had come
home with strongly held anti-German views. He had no desire to meet a
member of the German resistance who came to see him at the beginning
of the war. 11 The two leaders decided that there would be no annexations
after the successful campaign, and no territorial changes would be effected
that did not accord with the freely expressed wishes of the peoples

INTRODUCTION

concerned. The high-minded principles expressed at that time formed
the basis for the Atlantic Charter — Pax Americana. Future wars would be
prevented by stopping Germany from disturbing the peace. Germany was
to be demilitarised, denazified and made to restore the land it had poached
from its neighbours. 12

German and Austrian emigres played an important role in shaping
American thinking after 1941. Many of them worked in the Research and
Analysis Branch (R & A) of Military Intelligence (OSS). Prominent were
the historians Hajo Holborn and Felix Gilbert, the politicologues Otto
Kirchheimer, John Herz and Franz Leopold Neumann and the philosopher
Herbert Marcuse. The most important of them was Franz Neumann, the
author of Behemoth: The Structure and Practise of National Socialism. Neumann
argued for a radical reconstruction of Germany to avoid repeats of Hitler’s
coming to power. One key plank to his doctrine was the establishment of
some sort of European Union. The traditional Germany was to be
removed by a social revolution. 13 There was only a brief window when the
Western Allies tried to woo the Jews. This corresponded to the time of the
first Nuremberg trials. When East and West fell out for good, the Allies -
the West in particular — were prepared to sweep a good deal under the
carpet in order to groom their new German ally and relieve themselves of
the unpleasant business of censuring its people for their past conduct.

The Allies had nonetheless been influenced in their designs by a sizeable
body of literature penned by exiles. Books by Hermann Rauschning and
Konrad Heiden, and Sebastian Haffner’s Germany — Jekyll & Hyde,
instructed the Allies on how to deal with a post-Nazi Germany The bacil¬
lus (to borrow a word from the Nazis themselves) had to be wiped out
completely. Haffner wanted to see Germany broken up into small states, a
much more extreme solution than the eventual Federal Republic, which
created autonomous regions. For the British the Prussians were still the
enemy. Churchill, for one, wished to see the south Germans more mildly
treated than the ‘Prussians’ in the north: Nazy tyranny and Prussian mili¬
tarism ‘must be absolutely destroyed’. 14

By 1943 the Allies knew they were going to win. Stalingrad and the sub¬
sequent collapse of Hitler’s Russian offensive made that abundantly clear.
The Allies could now sit down and decide what they were going to do with
Germany The military plan was enshrined in Operation Eclipse. In the
winter of 1943 the European Advisory Commission or EAC met to work
out how Germany would be administered. It met again on 18 February
1944, and by this time the cake had been properly portioned out: Soviet
Russia was to receive 40 per cent of Germany’s land mass, 36 per cent of its

INTRODUCTION

population and 33 per cent of its productive capacity.* Britain and America
took the remainder. Likewise Berlin was to be divided in three.

Stalingrad engendered a new mood among the Allies. Both the
Americans and the British were smitten with Stalin and the great progress
he was making. The Americans now saw themselves carving up the world
with the Soviet Union and were worried that the Russians would not
approve of their close relations with the British and their ideologically
unacceptable empire. Churchill was worried — and continued to be wor¬
ried even after victory — that the Americans would not stay in Europe and
would leave him to face the Russians across the ideological divide. 15 At the
Casablanca Conference in January 1943 the Allies decided that Germany
was to surrender ‘unconditionally’. What that meant Churchill explained
to the House of Commons on 22 February 1944. The Allies would not
stain their ‘victorious army by inhumanity’: ‘unconditional surrender
means the victors have a free hand ... If we are bound, we are bound by
our own consciences to civilisation.’ 16 What else that meant was not really
clear to anyone, but it gave Churchill room for manoeuvre.

The American who was urging the greatest retribution against the
Germans was Roosevelt’s treasury secretary, Henry Morgenthau - although
the text of his plan was largely written by his assistant Harry Dexter
Whited Morgenthau was ‘touched by atrocities against the Jewish race’. 17
His idea was a ‘peace of punishment’ which involved splitting the country
into four states that would be almost entirely agrarian. Austria was to be cut
in two. The secretary of war, Henry L. Stimson, thought this idea of‘pas-
toralisation’ unnecessarily harsh, but ‘the President’s vindictiveness kept the
Treasury proposal alive’. At that time Roosevelt was still keen to see the
United States and Soviet Russia rule the world together. 18

Germany was to be reformed by the ‘four Ds’: decentralisation, demili¬
tarisation, denazification and democracy. The US War Department’s Civil
Affairs Division (CAD) was responsible for post-war planning. The army
also liked the Morgenthau Plan as it promoted the sort of chaos that suited
their strategic aims: it was therefore at the heart of the crucial US Joint
Chiefs of Staff document JCS 1067. Both Roosevelt and Churchill had
their moments of flirtation with the draconian plan. In August 1944
Roosevelt for one had lost patience with the Germans. ‘The German

* At this stage the Soviet share included eastern Germany within its 1937 borders. Much of
this was later hived off and awarded to Poland.

f This is disputed. Michael Balfour says Morgenthau wrote the first draft: Michael
Balfour and John Mair, Four Power Control in Germany and Austria 1945—1946, Oxford
1956, 20 n3.

INTRODUCTION

people should be taught their responsibility for the war and for a long time
they should have only soup for breakfast, soup for lunch and soup for
dinner.’ His then secretary for mobilisation, James Byrnes, added: ‘It did
not sound like President Roosevelt. He was very angry.’ 19

In these moments Churchill played along. Roosevelt’s Morgenthau
mood reached its height at the Quebec Conference in August 1943, when
he expressed his approval for an eliminatory ‘Carthaginian Peace’. At the
time he pretended that he only wanted to shore up Britain; to ‘keep
Britain from going into complete bankruptcy at the end of the war’. The
Ruhr was going to give Britain the means to survive. 20

At Teheran (28 November to 1 December 1943) Britain agreed to a
change in Poland’s eastern borders. Later Churchill would make a great
play of the fact that he had tried his best for Poland, but he gave himself
away in the House of Commons on 27 February 1945 when he offered
British citizenship to any Poles who did not wish to return to their coun¬
try. He knew that they were not to regain their liberty, or even all their
territory. Roosevelt was more cautious about accepting Stalin’s demands for
a ratification of the treaty signed with Hitler: there were elections coming
up and there were lots of Polish Americans who might object. He didn’t
like the idea of Stalin annexing the Baltic States either. 21

Roosevelt began to backtrack about the Morgenthau Plan after the
meeting in Quebec. It was not Morgenthau but the cooler Byrnes who
accompanied him to the Yalta Conference from 5 to 11 February 1945. By
that time the idea of splitting Germany up into autonomous regions was no
longer so popular. The US was for a federal system. At the Teheran
Conference the call had been for five pieces; by the time the leaders met
in Moscow, they were down to two. Roosevelt’s vice-president and suc¬
cessor Harry Truman was not at all keen on the Morgenthau Plan, which
he branded ‘an act of revenge’. ‘My aim is a unified Germany with a cen¬
tralised government in Berlin.’ Morgenthau himself was rather miffed. 22

Stalin was also a supporter of the Morgenthau Plan, but the noises he
put out to the West altered several times: at Teheran he was in favour of a
divided Germany; at Yalta he wanted unity, but Allied zones of occupation;
at Potsdam he argued for a single economic unit. He feared that the
German beast would rise again and seek revenge if it were not well and
truly slain. He was also keen to satisfy Russian public opinion by granting
a ‘day of judgment’, when the Germans would feel the full weight of
their conquerors’ fury. The West was afraid that he meant ultimately to
extend communism to the Rhine, or even the Atlantic, but if he was to
export it to central and western Europe he would need support on the

INTRODUCTION

ground: the punishment of the Germans could not go on for too long, as
he needed to have them on his side. 23 Stalin also feared the West. He
believed that Britain and America were planning to make a separate peace
with the Germans and would use the German army to attack him. It was
only when the Americans fought the bloody campaign in the Ardennes,
which ended in January 1945, that he was satisfied that the West would not
sign a separate peace. 24

France had yet to join the top table and for the time being French goals
were subtly different. When the EAC met in February, France was still
occupied by the Germans. The French nonetheless drew up a list of war
aims: German surrender, withdrawal from occupied territory, the destruc¬
tion of the Wehrmacht, Allied occupation of Germany, punishment of war
criminals and large-scale reparations, particularly in German coal and
coke. 25 There was not much new from Clemenceau at Versailles. This
changed a little at the liberation. Now France’s chief concern was its recog¬
nition as a great power. It was quick to field an army to that effect. Its
wartime leader in exile, Charles de Gaulle, wanted to grab what he could
while the going was good.

The Soviets’ aims have been the subject of prolonged discussion, as
their apparent desire to inflict communism on the whole of mainland
Europe was the reason for the Cold War. What documentary evidence
there is has been examined since the end of that war by — among others —
Vojtech Mastny. We know, for example, that the plans were drawn up by
a team composed of Maisky, Litvinov and Voroshilov. Assistant foreign
minister Maisky was responsible for Germany and reparations, while
Litvinov handled peace treaties and Voroshilov was in charge of military
planning. According to Mastny, Stalin was flexible and pragmatic, ‘lest he
ask for too much, or too little’. 26 Though there was no master-plan, there
were minimum war aims: Stalin wanted to retain Russia’s western borders
as established by the Hitler—Stalin Pact of 1939. That meant hanging on to
Poland east of the Bug, as well as the Baltic States; he wanted no repetition
of the small power blocs that had dominated eastern central European
politics in the 1930s. The Soviet Union was to be the sole military great
power in mainland Europe - this included France and Italy - a policy that
caused friction with Tito, who aspired to that position.

Stalin also wanted to see the establishment of strong communist parties
in all the lands occupied by his armies and was keen for these parties to play
important roles and to be active. On the other hand they were not to bring
about revolutions and they were not to follow the Soviet model. He told
Maurice Thorez, the French communist leader, that he was to find friends.

INTRODUCTION

So far as Germany was concerned, Stalin was open on all issues but the
Polish one: he wanted to compensate the Poles with German land. He also
sought to avoid recreating a German ‘pressure-cooker’ by hemming the
country in with antipathetic neighbours. However, he was anxious not to
breed a lasting desire for revenge. He wanted reparations. He told Maisky
to take as much out of Germany as he could without starving its people. 27
It was obviously also to be deprived of its military might, but Stalin was
indifferent to the form of regime: multi-party democracy or communist
party.

In his relations with the Western Allies, Stalin sought a co-operative
Realpolitik to allow for Germany’s reconstruction. Europe was to be carved
into two interest blocs controlled by the Soviet Union and Britain. Russia
would extend its sphere to include Sweden and Turkey, whereas Britain
would take in all of western Europe to the Rhine as well as Greece. At the
centre would lie a neutral zone made up of Germany, Austria, Italy,
Denmark and Norway. Stalin told German exiles in Moscow that he had
opposed the repackaging of Germany in small states. Even so, he wanted to
exploit central Europe for his arms programme. The Cold War was defi¬
nitely not desired by the Soviet leader, although his distrustful and
antagonistic nature may have contributed to worsening relations. The
Soviet consolidation of eastern Europe was in response to the Marshall
Plan, America’s programme of economic aid launched in 1947. 28

The reduction of Germany to a number of states was another project
that failed to come to fruition after the First World War. Splitting Germany
up into manageable units had been advocated by Haffner, as already noted.
The French were keen to wrest away the western regions. On 12 August
1944 de Gaulle proposed an indefinite occupation of‘Rhenania’, express¬
ing a policy that had been at the heart of French ambitions in central
Europe since the Thirty Years War. He reiterated his determination in
January 1946: ‘we hold on to the Rhine’. 29 There should be no return to
a centralised Reich. The Russians were less keen on breaking up Germany,
and were unimpressed by de Gaulle’s projects for ‘Rhenania’, despite the
French pandering to them by advocating the cession of German regions
east of the Oder to the Poles and the Russians. 30 In October 1944 de
Gaulle pushed for a separate zone of occupation for France. He would
achieve ‘Rhenania’ by hook or by crook. He demanded the Rhineland
north of Alsace, the Saar and the west bank of the Rhine as far as Cologne,
as well as the Palatinate, Baden and all the Hesses. The British pledged him
part of their zone. 31

De Gaulle rejected Morgenthau’s proposal to ‘pastoralise’ Germany.

INTRODUCTION

He felt it would create an economic crisis, and besides France needed the
produce of German industry. He also had to reckon with a French desire
for revenge. A poll taken early in 1945 showed that 76 per cent of the
French wanted Germany split up; 59 per cent wanted a proportion of all
Germans deported; 80 per cent supported General Leclerc’s proposal to
shoot five Germans for any attack on French army personnel; two-thirds
were in favour of annexing the Saar; 87 per cent thought the Soviets
would be able to punish the Germans properly; while only 9 per cent
had any confidence in the Americans. 32 De Gaulle was still wrestling with
proposals for massive changes to the shape of Germany and, if needs be,
shifting huge numbers of Germans. Silesia was to be given to the Poles,
while the Rhineland and Westphalia would be administered by the Allies.
Originally he thought that the fifteen million Germans living in the latter
could be moved out, but then decided that the project would be ‘too
grandiose’. 33

There was a an element of bellafigura too. As Georges Bidault, the head
of the resistance organisation, put it, the French had to play a major role in
the war after the liberation, otherwise ‘the Germans will not look on
them as conquerors’. 34 Unfortunately the Americans, Roosevelt in partic¬
ular, were unwilling to equip the French army to play that major role. At
the end of 1944, de Gaulle tried his hand in Moscow. Stalin managed to get
de Gaulle to recognise his ‘Lublin’ Poles over the London government in
exile as the price for a Franco-Soviet treaty.

The Allied zones were ratified at Yalta in February 1945. France was
once again excluded. Russia was making strides towards winning the war.
Its troops were poised to cross the Oder while the Western Allies had yet
to cross the Rhine. Churchill argued for including the French among the
victorious powers. Stalin reluctantly agreed. He did not think the French
had pulled their weight and in 1940 they had let the Germans in. France
might have a zone, ‘but only as a kindness and not because she is entitled
to it’. 35 Roosevelt sent Harry Hopkins to Paris to sugar the pill: 36 the
French were to have a small zone in the west, carved out of the British and
American portions. An Allied Control Council was to be set up to deal
with questions affecting all four zones. It would meet in Berlin.

In April 1945 the Western Allies had second thoughts. The Americans
had pushed far into Saxony, which had been allotted to the Soviets; and the
British had taken a sizeable chunk of Mecklenburg. Some people were
hoping that the Western Allies would push on, take Berlin and turn on
Soviet Russia. Chief among these was Hitler himself, and his propaganda
minister, Goebbels. As it was, the British and Americans did not turn on

INTRODUCTION

their Russian ally - possibly because Hitler, Himmler and Goebbels were so
anxious for them to do so; but they did hang on to their booty for a while,
and Churchill for one was anxious to use it as a counter for Soviet assur¬
ances about their territorial acquisitions. The new US president -
Roosevelt died that April — Harry Truman would not listen, however, and
the Russians moved into Mecklenburg and Saxony without providing sat¬
isfactory assurances about Germany’s borders or the status of Berlin. Stalin
prevaricated for as long as he could so that he might strip Berlin bare and
install his toadies in all the worthwhile positions of power.

The French were still worrying about their own status as their troops
marched into Germany with the Anglo-Americans. A total of 165,000
troops under arms meant a lack of labour at home. Germans would have to
be sent to France to carry out the work in the same way as the French had
been obliged to toil in Germany. De Gaulle spoke of needing two million
Germans, although he never managed that. He was still keen to annex the
Rhineland. As Maurice Couve de Murville, a member of the French pro¬
visional government, put it pathetically, ‘If we do not achieve this we have
lost the war.’ 37 France’s attitude led to friction, particularly with the
Americans. When French troops occupied Stuttgart — which was meant to
form part of the American Zone as the capital of Wiirttemberg — the
Americans ordered them to leave. De Gaulle refused, saying he would stay
put until the zones were finalised. The French were causing problems in
the Levant too, and in an act of bravura against the Italians (who had taken
back Haute Savoie and Nice during the war) they occupied the French-
speaking Val d’Aosta. The American solution was to offer them some bits
of Baden and Wiirttemberg while keeping the lion’s share for themselves. 38
In Berlin on 5 June the Western Allies formally came into the zones and
sectors, but it was not until 26 July, while the Big Three were deliberating
at Potsdam, that the Soviets finally recognised the French Sector of Berlin.
The French were still clamouring for more of Baden and Wiirttemberg.
They had been given a curious territory along Germany’s western borders
with two big lumps sticking out to the east. It was mocked as ‘the bras¬
siere’.*

There were other nations which expected to be in the running for
something at the peace, principally the Poles and the Czechs. They placed
their hopes on the tit-for-tat cessions and annexations that had become
a feature of the twentieth century. The process had started with the

* This was an Anglo-American brassiere: the French word applies to a baby garment, and
has no lumps.

INTRODUCTION

population transfers between the Bulgarians and the Turks in 1913. In that
instance 50,000 people had voluntarily switched lands. In 1923 the
exchange of Greeks and Turks was more acrimonious, and the figures
more disturbing: 400,000 Turks went east, and 1,300,000 Greeks took
their place in what was to become a mono-racial homeland. In the spring
of 1943 Roosevelt told Anthony Eden, the British foreign secretary, that
the transfer of Germans from East Prussia would be similar to the business
with the Turks and Greeks. In 1945 Stalin wanted revision of the Treaty of
Riga of 1921, which had created three Baltic states out of Russia’s old
Baltic territories. The expulsion of the Germans from the lands east of the
Oder and Neisse rivers came down to that, and the fact that Roosevelt had
always been prepared to give Stalin what he wanted: Russo-American co¬
operation was to become ‘the cornerstone of the new world order’. Britain
tagged along in the hope of hanging on to its great-power status. 39

Stalin was not going to relinquish Poland east of the Bug. With a blank
cheque from the Russians as far as their western borders were concerned,
the Poles were keen to recoup as much as they could by acquiring German
territory. The idea of advancing to the Oder — and beyond — went back to
the neo-Piast thinkers, Roman Dmowski and Jan-Ludwig Poplawski. 40 As
Germany walked into Poland again, the idea became more and more
attractive. Hitler was seen as Prussia, and Prussia needed to be docked.
Berlin was mentioned as a fitting ‘showplace for Prussia’s death’. 41 In
London Wladyslaw Palucki began clamouring for the Oder—Neisse line as
early as 1942. It can have been no surprise when Stalin adopted this view
too, at Yalta.

Poland’s eastern borders, with the Soviet Union, presented a trickier
problem. At Yalta Churchill and Roosevelt were slightly at variance over
the Curzon Line, first proposed by the British foreign secretary Lord
Curzon in 1920. Roosevelt held out for Lvov, a city that was chiefly Polish.
Churchill was prepared to abandon Lvov to the Russians. As regards the
western borders, Stalin made his feelings abundantly clear. When the
Anglo-Americans expressed their doubts about the size of the German
population to be evicted, he stood up and in an impassioned voice
declared: ‘I prefer the war should continue a little longer although it costs
us blood and to give Poland compensation in the west at the expense of the
Germans ... I will maintain and I will ask all friends to support me in this
[that] ... I am in favour of extending the Polish western frontier to the
Neisse river.’ It was at this point that Churchill uttered his line about stuff¬
ing the Polish goose so full that it died of indigestion. The figure of six
million Germans was conjured up as the number who would be required

INTRODUCTION

to move. In private Churchill told Byrnes that it was more like nine mil¬
lion. 42 Poles would have to be resettled too, from Lvov and the lands east
of the Bug, but the population was mixed, with the Poles in the towns and
owning the big estates, which was hardly the case in East Prussia,
Pomerania or Lower Silesia.

Edvard Benes, head of the Czechoslovak government in exile, had
taken a long time to recover from the humiliation of Munich. He had
spent seven years in exile. It was his plan from the beginning to reduce the
size of the minorities in the young republic: Hungarians and Germans in
Bohemia and Moravia. The Germans made up some 23 per cent of the
Czechoslovak population. Other lessons he had learned from the rape of
his country were the need to co-operate with the Poles (who had grabbed
the region of Teschen while the Czechs were prostrate and defenceless),
and to secure the patronage of the Soviet Union. The Poles could be
accommodated in Freistadt (Frystat) and he would expel two-thirds of the
Hungarians in Slovakia. As for the Germans, his ‘5th Plan’ provided for the
cession of certain border regions with an overwhelmingly German popu¬
lation. That would relieve him of a third of his Germans; a third more
would be expelled. He would keep the Jews, democrats and socialists. 43

Later the plans were adapted. The three cantons he was prepared to cede
to Germany — Jagerndorf, Reichenberg and Karlsbad — grew smaller. The
border adjustment would still leave him with 800,000 Germans. He
decided that some of these would flee, some would be expelled and the rest
‘organised for transfer’. When the peace came he quite forgot about the
idea of losing territory and actually claimed land from Germany, but the
Allies did not respond. 44 For much of the war Benes had clung to the idea
of a reduction in the number of his German subjects. He had the backing
of the British. On 6 July 1942 the war cabinet ruled that the Munich
Accords were invalid and agreed in principle to the idea of a transfer of the
German populations of central and south-east Europe to the German
fatherland in cases where it seemed ‘necessary and desirable’. Ten months
later Roosevelt also came round to this view, although American military
planners thought it could be done more humanely by transferring six
small territories to Germany. Stalin too agreed to the transfer on 12
December 1943 after the Czech ministers Jan Masaryk and Hubert Ripka
spoke to the Soviet ambassador to the exile regimes, Bogomolov. 45

INTRODUCTION

Austria

Hitler’s armies went into Austria on 12 March 1938. Very soon the
Germans made the place intolerable for certain groups of people. The Jews
were an obvious target, and the Nazis introduced a regimen that was far
more extreme than that current in Germany — at least until November that
year, when Berlin turned up the heat with the ‘Reichskristallnacht’, when
mobs throughout Germany smashed Jewish properties. Adolf Eichmann
was placed in charge of antisemitic activities in Austria and went about his
business with all the diligence that Himmler expected of him. But it was
not just Jews: in two great trainloads the ‘Prominenten’ were also shipped
out to Dachau. These were the members of the governing elite who had
banned the NSDAP or Nazi Party and thrown its members into Austria’s
own concentration camp at Wollersdorf in Lower Austria. They had exe¬
cuted a few of these Nazis for their part in the murder of Chancellor
Dollfuss four years before. It was time for Nazi revenge. The fates of the
Austrian elite are in part recounted in Bruno Heilig’s book Men Crucified:
ministers, civil servants and magistrates, most of them of an age when
they were no longer capable of hard labour, were physically broken and
beaten to death. Some of them went on to Buchenwald, others to
Mauthausen. Those who survived returned as martyrs. No one begrudged
them that title.

Despite the treatment of their leading politicians, many on the right and
left in Austria might have been prepared to back Hitler. Perhaps 10 per cent
of the country’s adult citizens joined the NSDAP, but a certain Teutonic
heavy-handedness failed to win them all the friends they might. Austrian
industry was appropriated by Goring’s Four Year Plan and increasing num¬
bers of Germans swanned about their newly acquired territory all the
while, treating Austrians with a disdain they have yet to forget. Worse,
Austrians tended to be despatched to the toughest theatres of war. For the
Allies, however, Austria was now part of Greater Germany and they were
at war. Exiles tried to guide their hands, and plead that the Austrian case
was different. Many Allied leaders found that hard to take, but for politi¬
cal reasons they evolved the idea of Austria as a victim. Although no one
had seriously considered granting it a government in exile, the Allies had
to entertain the idea that Austria had an exile community that wished to
meet and discuss the country’s future, and there might be added benefits if
their discussions caused problems for the German administration.

There were five possible solutions for a post-war Austria. The first was a

INTRODUCTION

simple reversion to the independent state it had been between 1918 and
1938. The second proposed leaving Austria in bed with Germany. A third
involved making some sort of Danube Confederation based loosely on the
most positive side of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; and a fourth was that
favoured by the Morgenthau plan: a separation of Austria’s provinces with per¬
haps the Vorarlberg going to Switzerland, the Tyrol and Salzburg to Bavaria*
(which would then be detached from Germany) and the eastern parts attached
to a federation of Danubian lands. A fifth possibility was simply to roll up
Austria and Bavaria together to make a Catholic south-German stated 6

The Allies probably felt that a little confusion would do some good - it
did not pay to let the Austrians feel they were completely off the hook.
They would have to labour to show their love before they could receive the
prize of renewed independence. This ambivalence was enshrined in the
Moscow Declaration of 30 October 1943: ‘Austria, which was the first
victim of Nazi aggression, must be liberated from German domination.’ 47
The Anschluss, the annexation of 15 March 1938, was declared null and
void: ‘Austria is nonetheless reminded that it bears a responsibility from
which it may not escape, for having participated in the war on the side of
Hitler’s Germany and that, in the final reckoning, the role that it plays in
its own liberation will inevitably be taken into account.’ 4 * The Austrians
were not so much to be exonerated from the roles they had played in the
‘Movement’ and war as encouraged to rebel against the Germans.

The pretender to the Austro-Hungarian throne, Otto von Habsburg,
blamed the Russians for the mealy-mouthed nature of the Declaration, but
it is likely that Edvard Benes had a hand in it too. 49 The Declaration also
rejected the idea of a Danubian Federation and put paid to the hopes of a
Habsburg restoration. This was Stalin’s work. Otto himself had left for
America in 1940, leaving his brother Robert in London to campaign for
the cause there. Otto’s name figured on a Nazi hit-list. He went first to
New York and then to Quebec. Naturally he was hoping that the Allies
would look favourably on a Habsburg restoration, but there was little
chance of that. He found certain figures remarkably unsympathetic in
their attitude to Austria. One of these was Churchill’s foreign secretary
Eden, who had apparently defined the country as ‘five Habsburgs and a
hundred Jews’. Otto wanted to change Roosevelt’s mind. It will be recalled
that the president was smitten with the Morgenthau Plan at Quebec. Otto
claims that he was able to bring both Churchill and Roosevelt round. 50

* Once again Bavaria was seen as the harmless part of Germany. The monster was always
Prussia.

INTRODUCTION

On 25 October 1944 the Soviets asked for an acceleration of the
Austrian solution. They wanted to stipulate their future zone. At that
point the French were neither particularly interested in Austria nor
included in the handing out of the spoils. It was only later, when they
located some of their own industrial base in Austria, that they started to
clamour for reparations along with the Russians. 51 As far as territory was
concerned, the Soviets plumped for Burgenland and the eastern half of
Lower Austria. They also wanted to keep the eastern half of Styria together
with Graz, where the main industries were located — many of them out-
housed from Germany at a safe distance from Anglo-American bombers.
The British would have to be satisfied with the western half and Carinthia;
the Americans would have the rest. The Viennese Sachertorte would be cut
in three, but Russia would take the inner-city 1st Bezirk or district, the 3rd
Bezirk and the northern parts that abutted the Danube. Even then they
intended to control traffic on the river. The other slices would go to the
Anglo-Americans. 52

Meanwhile Austrian exile groups met to discuss the future. In Britain
there were as many as 30,000, of whom 90 per cent were Jews. 53 The
Austrian Centre was based in Westbourne Terrace in Paddington and had
its own restaurant, library and reading room, as well as a newspaper,
Zeitspiegel. Before the full horror was known and even as late as April
1945, there was an active campaign among exiles to make the Jews return.
That month appeared the pamphlet Vom Ghetto zur Freiheit. Die Zukunft der
Juden im befreiten Osterreich (From the Ghetto to Freedom: The Future of
the Jews in a Liberated Austria). It called for the punishment of those who
had committed crimes against the Jews and the restitution of their prop¬
erty. 54

Austrian exile groups began to plan for a non-Nazi, independent
Austria even before the war started. In June 1939 a discussion group had
called itself‘Das kommende Osterreich’ (The Coming Austria). It was not
just among the British exiles that such discussions took place. One of the
most influential figures was Ernst Fischer, who led the Austrian
Communist Group in Moscow. In 1944 he published The Rebirth of my
Country in which he advocated the complete economic divorce of Austria
and Germany after the war and suggested alliances with Czechoslovakia
and Yugoslavia. 55 With the establishment of the provisional government in
the autumn of 1945 he was made minister of education. 56

F. C. West, president of the Austrian Centre, brought up the question
that loomed largest in the minds of most exiles with his lecture ‘Zuriick
oder nicht zuriick — das ist keine Frage’ (To return or not to return, that is

INTRODUCTION

not the question). Most Jews had reservations, and these were positively
encouraged by Zionist groups. Willi Scholz (who was not a Jew) was at
pains to reassure Jews that not only would the new Austria welcome them,
they were needed there — ‘Osterreichische Juden, geht nach Osterreich
zuriick!’ (Austrian Jews, go back to Austria!). 57 In 1941 the Free Austrian
Movement (FAM — it became the FAWM, or Free Austrian World
Movement, in March 1944) was founded as the political voice of the
Centre. It was dominated by the communists, and very soon the monar¬
chists and even the social democrats withdrew their support. 58

Young Austria with its slogan Jugend voran’ (youth forward) was a
dynamic movement for those under twenty-five. At its height it had a
thousand members, and a hundred of these fought in the British armed
forces. 59 Jews, social democrats and communists signed up. The commu¬
nists had been declared illegal by Dollfuss in February 1934 and had been
driven into exile even before the Jews. Austria’s biggest party before the
Anschluss was the Christlichsozialen or Christian Socialists, but these were
as good as unrepresented in the exile colony. They were often antisemites,
and would have been put off by the heavy Jewish presence. Monarchists,
supporting the candidature of Otto von Habsburg, were not without influ¬
ence, but this bore fruit with the Gentiles, not with the Jews. 60

Otto von Habsburg had tried to raise an Austrian battalion in America
in 1942, and the recreation of a post-war independent Austria gave monar¬
chists leave to hope. 61 Legitimists such as Baron Leopold Popper von
Podhragy were pushing for a National Committee and an Austrian fight¬
ing force. The legitimists were often noblemen (nobles figured largely in
the early Austrian resistance groups) and were among the first to fall out
with the Nazis, who treated them with disdain, and vice versa. The British
Foreign Office was lukewarm about the creation of an Austrian force.
Eden’s response was merely to stress that German influence was to be
removed; besides he did not think that he had the proper cadre among the
30,000 Austrians in London. 62 A year later the Foreign Office was able to
invoke bad experiences in America as a reason for not raising such a bat¬
talion. A document dated 15 March 1943 shows how divided Austrians in
London were. 63

The leaders of Austrian Social Democracy, Viktor Adler and Otto
Bauer, had also fled from Paris to New York. At first the
Molotov—Ribbentrop Pact had thrown a predictable spanner into the
works, but the position altered after Hitler’s invasion of the Soviet Union
and the Russo-British Alliance, and it was once again respectable to be left-
wing. The Social Democrats had traditionally taken the line that Austria

INTRODUCTION

was not capable of a wholly independent existence and had tarred their
image by supporting union with Germany Initially Young Austria stood
for the liberation of ‘Germany’: ‘Ohne ein freies demokratisches
Deutschland — kein unabhangiges Osterreich’ (Without a free, democratic
Germany, no independent Austria). They encouraged a worldwide levee-
en-masse to overthrow the Nazis with violence. The most important thing
was to make the British authorities recognise their right to fight — their
right to possess, like the Poles and the Czechs, their own fighting units. 65
Communists were powerful behind the scenes in almost all the British-
based organisations. Their plan was that Soviet Russia would form the basis
of a system of security that would prevent further warfare and protect the
smaller states of south-eastern Europe from German aggression. 66 Towards
the end of the war there were sheaves of publications describing the polit¬
ical form of the new Austria, though in order not to frighten the
monarchists — who had been liable to Nazi persecution from 1942 — the
word ‘republic’ was avoided/’ 7 They had no desire to fall out until Hitler
was beaten.

The communist journalist Alfred Klahr was a leading theorist of a new
Austria divorced from Germany. Klahr advocated a rewriting of recent
Austrian history to emphasise unity and resistance to Hitler. It was neces¬
sary to tread gently when it came to the Standesstaat or Corporate State,
which replaced democratic government in Austria in 1934, to limit the
traitors to a mere handful of high-ranking collaborators. Germany could
not sell itself as a victim — it did not possess this card. 68 One of the tactics
used was to describe Austria as a culturally separate entity to Germany,
which meant concentrating on writers who were anti-German, like
Grillparzer. Music was also big: Austria could claim to be more inter¬
national, that musicians from all over the world had lived in Vienna; that
the Beethoven of the Ninth Symphony and the setting of the Ode to Joy
was a Viennese incarnation. The nationalistic, antisemitic Wagner was
billed as a purely German phenomenon.

On 19 February 1942 Churchill promised to free Austria from the
‘Prussian yoke’. He had actually overstepped the mark, and his speech was
disowned by the Foreign Office, but it had an encouraging effect in exile
circles. Finally, the independence of Austria did become a war aim, as
recognised by the colonial secretary Lord Cranborne in the Lords in May
1942 and Eden in the Commons in September. This line of argument was
eagerly lapped up by the Austrian exiles, who were more anxious than ever
to put the blame on the ‘Piefkes’, ‘Preussen’ or ‘Nazipreussen’. The
Austrians who occupied positions of power, they argued, were denatured

INTRODUCTION

opportunists: true Austrians had nothing to do with the regime. 69 Any
small act of resistance or non-cooperation was held up in triumph. When
they returned to Austria after the war, they had to admit that they had been
living in cloud-cuckoo land. 70

In their hearts and minds, Foreign Office officials remained uncon¬
vinced by the exiles. In November 1942 Roger Makins spoke in his
master’s voice and cast doubt on the importance of a group principally
composed of Jews and royalists, while others pointed to the communist
influence and were sceptical as to whether Austrians would accept its deci¬
sions. The presence of so many Jews on the committee could only damage
its credibility. 71 On the other hand some progress was made through their
champions in Britain like Sir Geoffrey Mander, and there were voices
raised in Parliament for the creation of Austrian fighting units in the Allied
armies. 72

Austrian exiles had the French example before their eyes after June
1944. The French were rapidly accorded the right to organise their coun¬
try behind the lines and escape from the threat of military occupation and
government. The exiles were deluding themselves in making this compari¬
son, but this did not prevent their dreaming.

The non-political Jews, who made up the bulk of the exiles, were less
likely to be convinced of Austria’s lamb-like innocence, because many of
them had witnessed the barbarity of the Austrian Gentile population in
1938. They were also unconvinced by attempts to ‘relativise’ the atrocities
perpetrated against the Jews by including them in a host of other brutalities
as a way of focusing on the general monstrosity of the Germans. They were
also doubtful of the Austrian Centre’s picture of the Jews as loyal Austrians.
Their ideal would have been a popular uprising against the Nazis. At the
very end they were successful and there was a small-scale mutiny when the
Russians loomed at the border. Hitler sent the Austrian-born Ernst
Kaltenbrunner, head of the SD, or Sicherheitsdienst, the Security Service
of the SS, to put it down, and three officers were publicly hanged in
Floridsdorf. 73

Soviet Russia clung to the idea of an independent Austria within its
1938 borders, but the power in east central Europe was to be
Czechoslovakia. Austria was to be ‘neutralised’ and also to be refused any
form of confederation with its neighbours, as the Russians feared a revival
of a Catholic or Austro-Hungarian empire. Nor were there to be any
concealed unions, of the NATO or EU sort; in return Austria was not to
be brought into the communist camp. The zones were also mapped out:
the Soviets wanted the industry (particularly the arms industry) in the

INTRODUCTION

east. The east also had the railway hubs for their planned satellites in
Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia. 74

The Allies connived at the ‘myth’ of Austria’s victimhood, 75 but this was
largely dictated by their own convenience. For the Jews the ‘liberation’ was
the moment of truth. The Marxists had failed to come to terms with the
genocide because such things had nothing to do with class struggle. When
they were faced with the facts, they were speechless. The Anschluss and the
war nonetheless strengthened the Austrian sense of independence. In
the 1930s this had been at best half formed. Now all Austrians accepted the
idea of the independent state, and rejected the notion of Grossdeutschland.
It is an attitude which colours Austrian minds to this day, to the degree that
the flirtation with Germany that started with the pan-German antisemites
like Schonerer and Lueger and reached its height between the wars is all
but forgotten. It was being put away in the recesses of the Austrian collec¬
tive memory as the Red Army mustered at the gates of Vienna.

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PART I
Chaos

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The Fall of Vienna

14 April 1945

A shocking view from the Graben: the marvellous high-pitched roof
of the cathedral with its eagle-motif has disappeared and the left-
hand incomplete tower has been burned out. The finials and gables
appear miserable and black against the heavens. Only the tower is still
standing, the symbol of my beloved city.

Josef Schoner, Wiener Tagebuch lggj/ig^s, Vienna,
Cologne and Weimar 1992, 160

A s the Russians approached the former Habsburg capital the Austrian
Centre and the BBC together tried to dispel the fears of the popula¬
tion. The Austrian Centre even went so far as to stress the Red Army’s
reputation for good behaviour. Marching from the Hungarian town of
Koszeg the 3rd Ukrainian Front under Marshal Tolbukhin crossed the
frontier on Maundy Thursday, 29 March 1945, at Klostermarienberg in
South Burgenland, and moved towards Rechnitz. Graz lay at the end of the
Raab Valley, but the Red Army predictably wheeled right towards Vienna.
On 1 April the battle for Wiener Neustadt began. After a fight lasting a
week, the capital ceded and the Red Army entered Hitlers ‘Fortress
Vienna’ on 8 April. The Austrian Centre was jubilant: Zeitspiegel described
the brotherly greeting given to the conquerors, with both the Red flag
and the red, white and red flag of Austria on prominent display. Once
more they were out of touch with reality.

The women of Vienna were not so enthusiastic, to say the least. Joseph
Goebbels had made it abundantly clear what would happen to them. Some
people dismissed his warnings as ‘terror propaganda’, but it was sadly true
that the Red Army raped wherever they went. They even raped Russians
and Ukrainians. The worst and most aggravated rapes were perpetrated
against the women of the enemy — first the Hungarians, then the Germans.
Bulgarian women, however, were spared some of the worst excesses,

CHAOS

possibly because Russians and Bulgarians generally feel empathy for one
another. The Red Army raped Yugoslav women too, although they were
on the same side. It was not likely that they would spare the Viennese just
because the Moscow Declaration had made them ‘victims of fascism’.

There has been much discussion of why the Russians raped and mur¬
dered so many women on their march to the River Elbe. They were
certainly egged on by Ehrenburg and other Soviet propagandists who saw
rape as an expression of hatred, and therefore good for morale. Soviet sol¬
diers had also been shown pictures of the Nazi victims of Majdenek, where
the dead had simply been identified as ‘Soviet citizens’. The Germans had
been in Russia; they had burned their towns and villages and posed as a
Herrenvolk — a nation of lords.* The Slavs were racially inferior, no better
than helots. + In the circumstances rape must have seemed an irresistible
form of vengeance against these ‘superior’ women and the best way to
humiliate them and their menfolk. The worst offenders, it seems, were sol¬
diers from Belorussia and the Ukraine — areas invaded by the Germans.
The older soldiers and those having higher education were the least likely
to rape. The higher the standard of living the Russian soldiers encountered,
the more they raped. They were disgusted by the plenty, the comfortable
houses and the well-stocked larders they found, which stood in such con¬
trast to the poverty they knew from home. 1 The manor house or castle was
particularly prone.

Commanders generally turned a blind eye to the rapes. When the
Ukrainian Jewish intellectual Lev Kopelev tried to intervene to save a
German woman from a group of rampaging soldiers, he was accused of
‘bourgeois humanism’ and imprisoned for nine years. 2 It was only much
later that any punishment was handed out. The reason why Russian gen¬
erals accepted such appalling lack of discipline was that rape was condoned
at the very top. Stalin told the Yugoslav communist leader Milovan Djilas,
‘Can’t he understand it if a soldier who has crossed thousands of kilometres
through blood and fire and death has fun with a woman or takes some
trifle?’ 3 Added to the semi-official sanction, the Red Army was sex-starved.
Its soldiers had been fighting for four years, and in most cases they had not

* The assistant Soviet commander in Germany, Sokolovsky, specifically mentioned the
Herrenvolk to justify the rapes. (See Norman M. Naimark, The Russians in Germany — A
History of the Soviet Zone of Occupation, 1945—1949, Cambridge, Mass, and London 1995, 79.)
f In February 1943 Hitler drove past a group of Russian slave-labourers working on the road
outside Zaporozhe. Filled with loathing he remarked, ‘It is quite right to make Slavs do this,
these robots! Otherwise they would have no right to their share of the sun!’ Henrik Eberle
and Matthias Uhl, eds, The Hitler Book, translated by Giles MacDonogh, London 2005, 102.

THE FALL OF VIENNA

received compassionate leave. The raping became worse again after 23
June 1945, when many female soldiers were sent back to Russia. It became
a part of everyday life in the remote villages of Burgenland and Lower
Austria where it continued until the end of 1946 or the beginning of
I 947- 4

The Germans had been pulling out from the 6 April 1945, and they
took most of the police with them. They had been made up of elderly sol¬
diers anyhow, mostly unfit for service at the front. The real Viennese
police had been incorporated into the SS and sent to Russia. The depart¬
ure of the ersatz police exposed the city to even greater dangers when the
looting started. Later an auxiliary squad was formed by the Russians and
issued with armbands, but by then the damage had been done. It was not
only the police who had vanished: the prudent Nazis had also quit the city,
leaving their homes at the mercy of the plunderers. 5

The Red Army appeared in the wake of the retreating Germans. The
Viennese were in the dark. The wireless had ceased to function and the last
newspapers appeared on 7 April — some were printed on the 8th, but they
were not distributed. There was then a total news breakdown until com¬
munications were restored with the issue of the communist-backed Neues
Osterreich on the 15th. All that remained was Mundfunk — a play on
Rundfunk or radio station, but meaning word of mouth, or gossip. 6 ‘On the
7th the Red Army occupied the giant Anker bakery in Favoriten, cutting
off the city from its main source of bread. For the next ten days the
Viennese were reduced to 250 grams of bread each daily. It got worse: cit¬
izens had to make do with 500 grams to a kilo of bread a week: ‘A slice of
bread was a considerate present.’ 7

On 8 April there was a rumour that the Russians had reached the
Zentralfriedhof or main cemetery. On that day the economist Eugen
Margaretha was still living off his well-stocked larder: he had a slap-up
Sunday lunch of ‘wonderful’ potato soup with vegetables and meat, a plain
pork schnitzel, which was a little too salty, and risipisi ,* which his wife had
not salted, to compensate for the pork. There was a cream dessert and
Turkish coffee. After that he smoked a Swiss cheroot. 8 Margaretha lived in
the Bossigasse in St Veit in the plush suburb of Hietzing. There were still
SS units operating in the centre. The next day he noted a Russian scratch¬
ing at the door opposite. Then he heard the sound of rifle butts hammering
on his own door. The Czech-speaking housekeeper Franek was sent to

* A variant on a Venetian dish, risibisi (rice and peas), and popular in Vienna. The author
came across it as a child, at a rare surviving Jewish home in the 2nd Bezirk.

CHAOS

deal with them. A whole troop of Russians came in carrying their heavy
machine guns. They disappeared into the cellar and then went upstairs,
where they took up positions, firing at the SS from the windows.

Margaretha noted in his diary that they were ‘nice chaps’. A Russian
NCO gave Franek six cigars after he had assured him the householders
were not ‘Germanski’ but Czechs. One of the soldiers took a fancy to
Franek’s watch. The housekeeper pleaded that he was a poor man and had
but one watch. Another soldier told his comrade to give it back. Most of
the shooting came from the Russians. There was just a little desultory gun¬
fire from the SS. When the Russians departed, Margaretha went upstairs to
find they had broken around twenty window panes. They had helped
themselves to food and cigarettes. They had also wrecked Margaretha s pre¬
cious typewriter, and broken the wireless set and the bathroom scales. In
one bedroom the mirror on the dressing table had been smashed with a
bayonet. They had cut the wires on the telephone and smashed it. It hadn’t
functioned for six weeks. They had taken two bicycles. ‘All in all the sol¬
diers were not wild but disciplined . . . Really many worse things might
have occurred.’ Later he was able to replace some of the broken panes with
the glass from his picture collection, and his ‘remembrance certificate’
from the Great War. 9 Elsewhere the first wave of Red Army troops con¬
siderately warned Austrian civilians about the occupation troops that
followed. They advised them to bury their valuables. 10

The Viennese received the Red Army with a degree of innocence. It
was to be their first experience of occupation since Napoleon’s time. In the
Josefstadt the Russians were joyfully and amicably’ greeted ‘by women and
girls who sometimes kissed or embraced them, a warm-heartedness that
was often misunderstood’. 11 Josef Schoner had been a member of Austria’s
diplomatic corps before March 1939, but his distaste for the Nazis led to his
retirement. The new broom retained very few of the Austrian elite: in the
Foreign Office only 10 per cent of the officials continued to serve under
the Nazis. Schoner survived by working for his parents, who had a number
of restaurants and cafes in the city. They had made the mistake of applying
for Nazi Party membership. Schoner did not. After the war he was ambas¬
sador to Bonn and finally London.

On 10 April Schoner noticed a brace of Russians wearing fur hats in the
Siebensterngasse in the 7th Bezirk. The German army was withdrawing
from the centre. Fie watched the behaviour of the locals. They tried to
speak to the new arrivals using any Slavic language they knew, generally
Czech, and offered them cigarettes, which the Russians refused. ‘The
longing for peace is so widespread that no one believes there will be

THE FALL OF VIENNA

prolonged resistance in Vienna.’ 12 Schoner was struck by the appearance of
the Russians. Many of them carried swords, but none seemed to possess a
scabbard. The Viennese were remarkably at ease: ‘everywhere gay, warm
faces, there is not a hint of fear or mourning’. The Russians asked if the
houses in the street concealed any soldiers or Germans. The Viennese
replied with the pride of the liberated: no, just Austrians.’ 3

As soon as it became clear that the German army had abandoned an
area, looting would begin. Margaretha thought it had started in Penzing, in
the 14th Bezirk, but it spread to neighbouring Hietzing where the ‘mob’
emptied the grocer Meinl and the fashion shops Wallace and Oser. A
neighbour, the engineer Kienast, complained they had also stolen his gold
watch, and given him an inferior one in return. 14 There were relatively few
Austrian men about: those aged between twenty and fifty were generally
away and there were huge numbers of foreign workers in the city who had
been drafted in by Hitler’s labour organisation to allow all good Germans
to go to war. They were suspected of playing a major role in the looting.
In Favoriten or Floridsdorf, on the north bank of the Danube, you were
more likely to hear French or Greek than German. After 9 April the for¬
eign workers were armed, and sometimes identifiable by armbands. The
communist Franz Honner estimated there were as many as 700,000 of
these in Vienna in April 1945 and that the bulk of the looting had been
carried out by them, but he did not discount the Viennese population.
Together with Austrian natives the foreigners formed the ‘mob’ that per¬
formed ‘various acts of violence’. Sometimes they would strip the premises
clean, at other times they were more selective. A building used by the
Hitler Youth was denuded even of its decorations. The veteran socialist
politician Adolf Scharf* was anxious to point out that the looters were
often men of good standing, ‘even people who prided themselves on their
titles of nobility in their everyday life’.’ 5

Schoner noticed it first at the department store Herzmansky in the
Mariahilferstrasse. He thought the Viennese more reprehensible. A few for¬
eign workers joined in. They had already been active in sacking the
outlying suburbs.’ 6 Schoner watched sick at heart as bales of cloth, suits and
women’s dresses came flying out of the building. One man was not in the
slightest embarrassed to try on a stolen suit in a doorway. The day before
the same mob had attacked the food shops on the Giirtel, the ‘belt’ road
surrounding the inner boroughs or Bezirke. ‘So it wasn’t the Russians, but

* Scharf had suffered at the hands of Dollfuss s Corporate State when he had been put in the
concentration camp at Wollersdorf, and again under the Nazis when he had spent a few
months in captivity after the Anschluss.

CHAOS

the dear Viennese themselves.’ 17 A boon to the Russians and the looters
were the big wine houses in Dobling and Heiligenstadt. The Russians
emptied the great tun in Klosterneuburg and then sprayed it with machine-
gun fire when it would provide them with no more solace. 18 People were
seen carrying off wine from Heiligenstadt in large vessels. 19

Scharf had been in hospital when the city fell. The patients had been
transferred to the hospital cellars. He noted the mendaciousness of his
fellow citizens during those days. One of his fellows was a butcher from
Ottakring, who later put it about that he had been a leading member of the
resistance and had shot at the SS from under a car. The truth was that he
had been lying on his back at the time, like Scharf. There was a gentle
‘revolution’ in the hospital: pictures of Hitler were taken off the walls and
the hospital’s administration was arrested. The military personnel had dis¬
carded their uniforms and fled. On io April a Russian soldier appeared in
the courtyard. The war was over. 20

Scharf made his way home on his daughter’s arm. All the jewellers’
shops in the Alserstrasse had been looted. A curfew had been imposed,
starting at 8 p.m. No one was clear as to whether Vienna had fallen. In the
morning of the 9th the Russians had advanced to the Giirtel. By the
evening German soldiers had abandoned the city centre. This gave the
Austrian resistance movements their cue and they proudly emerged from
the woodwork wearing red, white and red armbands. The most active of
these had been the small group headed by Major Carl Szokoll, three of
whose members had beenf hanged shortly before the Red Army occupied
the city. Szokoll takes the credit for saving Vienna from Hitler’s ‘Nero
Order’, which required the city’s destruction, but in reality the German
army was in no position to carry out the order. Sepp Dietrich joked that
his Sixth Tank Army was so named because he had but six tanks. Most sol¬
diers had no more than a few rounds of ammunition. 21

The resistance made the Palais Auersperg their headquarters. The
red—white—red Austrian flag flew from the roofless Rathaus. In the Schoner
household they ‘ate in a very light-hearted mood at midday and drank a
toast to our beloved Austria’. That afternoon the main body of Red Army
troops followed the advance guard into the city. Again it was a remarkable
sight. They came in every form of transport, horse-drawn coaches and
dogcarts. They held harmonicas and waved to the people as they passed.
The Viennese waved their handkerchiefs and doffed their hats. The
Russians shouted and blew kisses at the women. 22

Schoner and the other Viennese were prepared to give the Russians
the benefit of the doubt: ‘The fear of rape repeatedly promised by the

THE FALL OF VIENNA

propaganda seems to be not so great in the case of the Viennese.’ Schoner
tried to make it into the centre of the city — the ist Bezirk - but, at the
sight of the inner Ring at the bottom of the Burggasse littered with the
detritus of war, he decided not to attempt it. Russians were already steal¬
ing bicycles. He was stopped by some Red Army men outside the
Exhibition Centre (the former royal stables and riding school) and was
forced with others to dig a grave for one of their dead comrades. They had
found a German corporal in the complex of buildings and shot him. One
of his fellow gravediggers complained that the soldiers had stolen his gold
watch and leather coat. 23 Work details of this sort had become a hazard.
Johann Bohm was appointed state secretary for social administration in the
heady days after the Russian arrival. Detained in the street by a soldier, he
showed him a paper attesting to his new dignity. ‘Papier nix gut!’ said the
Russian (Your papers are worthless). He was then set to work. The wiser
citizens found means of deterring the Russians. Some put their arms in
slings, while others went to the extremes of having a plaster cast put on a
good arm. 24

Nazism had become a solely German commodity and Nazis were there¬
fore Germans, or honorary ones. Threatened with plunder, the Viennese
had directed the soldiers to the homes of the Pgs.* It was open season on
the Nazis, and many of them who remained in the city tried to cast out the
evidence as best they could. Large numbers committed suicide, like the
coal merchant whose business was in the same building as Margaretha’s
aunt, or the banker Josef Joham’s friends, the Bohm-Bawerks. The husband
had fled. His wife, sister and daughter all took their own lives. The
Russians shot a neighbour, Christoph Bauer, son of a well-known archi¬
tect, presumably because they believed him to be a Nazi. His mother had
to bury him in the garden. The Soviet secret police or GPU flushed out
another called Hackmufler from the house next door. He was alleged to
have been the Gauleiter Baldur von Schirach’s secretary. 25 Schoner pru¬
dently left his watch at home and went out in a curious combination of
clothes that was meant to remove any suspicion of bourgeoisie: skiing
trousers, hobnail mountain boots and a Styrian hat. Later he added an old
coat made in the 1920s and was careful to leave his tie at home. Wearing
spectacles was also risky. The Russians saw all men in glasses as fascists or
‘burschuj’, and picked on them. 26

The Styrian hat was an informal symbol of resistance among the
Austrians, or rather an emblem of resurgent national pride. When Schoner

* From Parteigenosse : Party comrade of member of the Nazi Party (NSDAP).

CHAOS

went to the Palais Auersperg he found that many if not most of the men
present were wearing such hats. The Palais Auersperg was owned by
Princess Agathe Croy, and it was thronged with members of the old nobil¬
ity. The resistance leader Willy Prince Thurn und Taxis was a cousin, and
Nikolaus von Maasburg was related to the Croys by marriage. There were
many G’schaftlhuber and Adabeis in the building which served as a refuge for
well-heeled women during the wild days of the liberation.* It was also the
HQ of O5J which had become the most important resistance group.
There was an air of unreality about the place. O5S chief Raoul Bumballa
was handing out ministerial portfolios to various noblemen and receiving
the Russians as if he were already head of state. 27

The real aristocracy of the resistance in the palace were the ‘Dachauer’,
members of the pre-1938 governing elite who had been shipped out to
Dachau en masse. Many of them were still there, if they had not died as a
result of their treatment. Schoner met Major Stillffied at the Auersperg. He
had been the camp commandant at Wollersdorf. His job had been to
punish both leftwingers and Nazis, and for this last reason he was
despatched to Dachau as well, the gamekeeper had become a poacher. 28 He
must also have been uncomfortable to see the many communists and social¬
ists who were coming out of the woodwork. A Russian officer was
incredulous at the sight of the princes and barons of the resistance: ‘I had
imagined the anti-fascists somewhat differently.’ Later the men acknow¬
ledged their mistake: they should have chosen more plausible leaders.
Maasburg was subsequently arrested when he tried to make contact with
some mild Nazis. He managed to escape to the West. 29

If middle-class Austrians wore curious clothing, that was nothing to the
garb the Russians were wearing. The rare officer possessing operatic
epaulettes reminded Schoner of the Serbians in the First War. Many were
sporting trophies too, such as SA or SS daggers. The rest could not be
described as wearing uniform. ‘Handsome human material,’ wrote
Schoner, ‘many tall and blond (“Teutonic”!), and among them lots of
Mongolian faces.’ Margaretha also noted their blondness and blue eyes.
They were powerful people, aged between eighteen and twenty, with a
number of fourteen- to fifteen-year-old boys in their train. He, on the
other hand, estimated the Mongol element to be a mere 2 per cent. 30

The Viennese were still enjoying a honeymoon with the Red Army.
Schoner’s father gave a soldier a bottle of wine from the restaurant’s cellars.

* G’schaftlhuber, a busybody; Adabei, from auch dabei, meaning also present: someone who
doesn’t want to miss the party.

f O + the fifth letter of the alphabet = Oe, or O (Austria).

THE FALL OF VIENNA

The soldier offered to pay. That night Schoner went to bed full of opti¬
mism: ‘God give us a peaceful night and a better future.’ The night passed
comfortably, but Schoners father had made a fatal mistake in giving the
soldier drink. Now his comrades came back for more. In Hietzing some
female neighbours of Eugen Margaretha expressed concern about what
might happen to their ‘innocence’ should the soldiers drink wine. 31 Adolf
Scharf had the same thought: ‘The great provision of wine and schnapps
in Vienna, above all in the vineyard areas, possibly provided a foundation
for the raping of the women when it took place.’ It is true that some
of the most aggravated instances were in the great cellars of Dobling,
where Austrian sparkling wine or Sekt is made, and the wine ‘village’ of
Grinzing. 32

At midday the Schoners sat down to a lunch of goulash, potatoes and
red cabbage, and Josef tried to console his mother. In the Mariahilferstrasse
the Hotel Windsor was burning. There was no water to put out the flames.
Schoner made another attempt to reach the centre. On the Ring he saw
that the dealer Kasimir (who had robbed the Jews of their art collections in
1938) had been looted himself. Schoner’s objective was the cavernous
Hotel Astoria on the Karntner Strasse, where the restaurant was franchised
to his sixty-seven-year-old aunt. In the foyer a Russian offered him wine:
‘Austria karascho!’ (Austria will be all right). 33 The hotel was still func¬
tioning, although a shell had hit the third floor. His aunt seemed in control.
She was feeding the Russians, while the officers practised old-world man¬
ners. So far they had left the chambermaids in peace, but Aunt Mili had
been propositioned by a first lieutenant who had asked her up to his
room. 34

The fighting continued in the areas of the city that bordered the
Danube. The Russians were across the canal in the Leopoldstadt — the 2nd
Bezirk — which explained the terrible damage done to the quay as the two
sides continued the shelling. On the 10th the Russians moved into the
Prater Park and occupied the race-track at the Freudenau without a fight.
The Germans were only cleared from the Leopoldstadt on the 13th. A day
later they were flushed out of Brigittenau, and the city was finally at
peace. 35 Schoner was free, however, to wander on towards the cathedral.
On the corner of the Stock-im-Eisen Platz the Haas Haus was burning.
No one attempted to put out the flames. Soldiers stood around watching.
It was not known who had started the fire: German shells or Viennese
looters. A third possibility was the Russians.* At the time it was common

* This was Willy Prinz von Thurn und Taxis’s view (‘Memoiren’, unpublished MS, 25).

CHAOS

to blame Werewolves: the wicked Nazis were destroying the Austrian cap¬
ital from motives of revenge. Later Schoner thought it might have been
plunderers with candles. The looters had broken into the premises of the
up-market grocer Wild on the Neue Markt. Margaretha heard that a
Russian general had threatened to shoot anyone caught looting, but that
seemed not to deter them. Schoner was offered schnapps by a soldier on
the Marco-d’Aviano-Gasse. The soldier told him that Stalin had ordered
that ‘Austria should not be treated as an enemy but as a liberated land. It
will be much better for us than for the Hungarians or the Germans, no one
is going to be shot.’ When Schoner returned to his house he found a cart
outside. Russian soldiers were emptying the restaurant cellars of schnapps
and Sekt. Two Viennese stood by, watching with ‘malicious pleasure’. 36

It was the time to settle scores. In the factory where Margaretha had
been working, the foreign workers were demanding the head of the boss,
who had prudently disappeared. One of the Schoner cooks had returned
from suburban Oberlaa. He reported that the women there had been
repeatedly raped. ‘The rape chapter that we had previously — and even at
the beginning of the occupation — lightly placed on the German propa¬
ganda ledger, had become stark reality.’ The victims were now reporting to
the doctors. Neither age nor social status provided any protection. The
Russians are reported to have raped women as old as eighty. Schoner heard
a story from Ober St Veit that one woman had complained to the Russian
commandant, who had laughed in her face. In general officers excused
their men on the grounds of‘long abstinence’. Even the ‘first victims’ were
not immune: the Austrians were not going to enjoy the taste of liber¬
ation. 37

The Russians had located the rich stocks of alcohol in the Schoner cel¬
lars and the banging on their door never ceased. They thanked their God
for the massive door on their old Viennese house. The women were nat¬
urally terrified. ‘Sleep was out of the question.’ On 12 April, Schoner
found that the Russians had plundered their Cafe Fenstergucker, opposite
the famous Hotel Sacher. Before setting it alight they had removed all the
wine and schnapps. There were reports of plunder and rape on all sides, so
much so that they were forced to admit that Goebbels had ill prepared
them for the truth. The most awful revelation, however, was even harder
to swallow: in almost every case of rape or plunder, the Russians had been
guided to their quarry by foreign workers or by the Viennese themselves.
The chosen victims were the middle classes. There were the predictable
consequences too: women committed suicide after the event; many con¬
tracted venereal diseases; others became pregnant and had to seek

THE FALL OF VIENNA

abortions. Doctors who had refused to terminate pregnancies in the past
were now prepared to waive their moral objections. The only women
who would not hear of it were the nuns, who stolidly awaited their fate in
a Viennese hospital. Women responded to the danger by dressing down: ‘all
the women are inelegant; most forgo hats or stockings. It is a lot safer on
the streets than it is in the houses at night . . ,’ 38

Vienna’s famous gawping Adabeis had assembled before the Schoners’
house in the Siebensterngasse to watch the spectacle. ‘The scene of our
looting attracts hundreds of spectators, who are constantly trying to push
their way into the house to lend a hand.’ They were hoping to receive a
few scraps from the Russians’ table. ‘In the hall he the fragments of a few
dozen bottles of Veuve Cliquot and Lanson.’ One Croat tried to steal
Josef’s watch, but he was so drunk he could not stand up and had to sup¬
port himself by clasping Schoner round the neck. The Russians were
accompanied by some women, who guided them towards the older vin¬
tages. Their advice was rewarded with some bars of ‘couverture’ or
cooking chocolate. The raiders found 200 more bottles. ‘Another group is
sitting around a table in the courtyard knocking back our old bordeaux
from coffee cups.' Josef’s parents complained to a first lieutenant, who
responded by distributing some of the bottles to the waiting crowd. The
Schoners joined the queue and were rewarded with a few bottles of their
own wine. To add insult to injury, a member of the resistance came to see
Schoners father and accused him of making the Russians drunk, thereby
placing the city’s women in jeopardy. 39

The Margarethas in Hietzing were luckier. The gourmand economist
was trading ‘liberation wine’ for endive salads. They hung up a sign in
German and ‘Cyrillic’ saying ‘Unarmed civilians’. Russians came up the
garden path to demand drink. Margarethas wife gave them water. Later
Franek set up a buffet to distribute water to any Russian with a thirst,
although that was certainly not what he wanted. They camped in the
garden and when it was time to eat they supped from their helmets, which
doubled as mess tins. The helmets were unlined, and the soldiers wore
woollen or fur hats underneath. They cut their meat up with their bay¬
onets. Margaretha still found them friendly, even if they tended to keep
their distance from the Austrians. 40

He was plundered for all that, if not badly. He returned from doing his
deal with the gardener to find the door wide open. Franek had been put
up against a wall. All three of the servant’s watches were gone. The
Russians had been upstairs where they had created a wild disorder. They
had filched a bottle of German brandy, but left the Dreher-cognac from

CHAOS

Hungary. They had nabbed his wife’s wedding ring, two cameras (one was
then rejected — he found it in the neighbours garden) and a brooch, which
they had subsequently returned. More Russians came for his car, but he
was able to tell them that it had been requisitioned by the Wehrmacht a
year before. ‘You are powerless in the face of such attacks,’ he reflected. A
notice had appeared outside the Cafe Gropl in Hietzing telling all Germans
aged between sixteen and sixty to report to the Russians. 41

The Germans and the Russians were still fighting on the outskirts, in
the industrial areas along the Danube. Marshal Tolbukhin issued a proc¬
lamation on 12 April: the Russians were not fighting the Austrian people;
they had come to restore the country as it had been before 1938. Simple
Nazis, it said, would not be prosecuted; private property would be
respected! 42 Meanwhile the city was putting together a form of govern¬
ment. Schoner heard a rumour that Scharf had been named mayor. Two
men wearing red—white—red armbands had indeed been to see Scharf and
told him he was needed urgently at the Palais Auersperg. He found the
place filled with ‘feverish activity’. The man in charge was Raoul
Bumballa, head of the resistance group O5. The Russians found the
Austrian resistance hard to quantify: they dissolved O5 and packed a
number of military opponents of Hitler off to the Soviet Union.

It was decided that Tolbukhin could not restore the Austria of 1938
without bringing back the ‘Austro-fascists’. The men in the Palais
Auersperg wanted a return to 1933. Scharf was not offered the mayor’s
job — that eventually went to the Russian-speaking socialist General
Korner. He was offered instead the subaltern position of mayor of
Josefstadt, which he declined. 43 Korner learned who the real bosses were
when he tried to take possession of the Rathaus on 18 April. He found his
path blocked: the Russians were searching the vast building for weapons.
He was obliged to sit on a park bench until they had finished. 44

The Muscovites had also checked in: Ernst Fischer, Johann Koplenig,
Franz Honner and Friedl Fuernberg. For the past few years they had been
living in Moscow’s Hotel Lux with the privileged German communists.
Honner was an ex-intern of Wollersdorf. He had left early to raise two
‘freedom’ battalions to form the Green Division of some 2,000 men, which
had campaigned alongside Tito’s partisans in Yugoslavia. He was a former
miner and shoemaker from Grtinbach who had fought in the Spanish
Civil War. Fischer was the intellectual and poet - the Austrian equivalent
of the later cultural commissar of the Russian Zone in Germany, Johannes
R. Becher — and was the son of a colonel and a staunch patriot. Fischer was
expecting Stalin to allow him and his fellow communists to play a major

THE FALL OF VIENNA

role. He was apparently furious when he heard that the Russians had
sought out the former chancellor Karl Renner and were going to allow
other parties, like the hated socialists,* to coexist with them. 45 The Western
Allies were also eagerly awaited: there were rumours that they would be in
Vienna as early as 22 April. Schoner had heard that the Americans were
already in nearby Mauer and had flown into Baden-bei-Wien. 46

On 13 April the Russians had reached Linz: ‘the city that had nurtured the
Fiihrer was evacuated without a fight’. The Schoners had managed to bury a
small part of their cellar in the garden. Locking the door no longer kept the
Russians out — they blew in the windows. The first wave came with a
Viennese gunwoman who directed them down to the cellar where they
found more wine, breaking some two-litre Doppler bottles in the process. The
next wave came through another window accompanied by cries of‘Wino!’
The Russians had been to the banks and forced the clerks to open the safes.
One of the Russians gave Schoner a RM 1,000 note for a roll-up. When the
family at last ran out of wine the Russians took eggs, bread and butter. 47

They were still heady times. On one of his walks around the city
Schoner was struck by the sight of a female Red Army soldier directing
traffic in the Wiedner Hauptstrasse dressed in a very short skirt. Margaretha
had admired these women too, particularly the blondes. The traffic in
question was Russian carts loaded with booty. These lined the Rennweg.
Cows and foals were tethered behind and the vehicles were piled high with
suitcases, balalaikas, sewing machines, radios and gramophones: ‘it was the
picture of a gypsy train’. The Russians had even stolen the tyres and
engines of the cars. As Schoner walked on he witnessed a horse being
skinned on the Wollzeile. The Stephansplatz was all burned out from the
Haas Haus to the Rotenturmstrasse. The Hotel Bristol near the Opera had
been gutted by fire. There were no fire engines to extinguish the flames.
When the Viennese found a pump it was so weak that the water hardly
made it to the first floor. 48 Cardinal Innitzer’s palace had been pillaged, and
the primate had fled. Schoner doffed his cap at the sight of the cathedral,
denuded of its roof. It had been set alight after the departure of the
Germans. ‘It is a sight that grabs everyone by the heart.’ 49

The Palais Auersperg had become the place to jockey for power in the
provisional government. Not all the solicitors were respectable. Schoner
noted that Vinzenz Schumy had swum with the tide after the Anschluss,
and was more or less compromised. Yet he too was looking for a ministerial
portfolio. Schoner thought the palace was full of Nazi spies. Former Pgs

* The socialist had supported the Anschluss with Germany. The communists had not.

CHAOS

were looking for victims of the Nazis in the hope that they would give
them a good reference once the witch-hunt started. Margaretha had been
dismissed from his job, and his son had married a Mautner-Markov, a
member of a prominent, ennobled, originally Jewish family. Schoner went
back to his old job at the Foreign Office. The building had been badly
damaged in the bombing, but it was still functioning. They put him in
charge of the grandfather clocks. There were more and more signs that life
was returning to normal. 50

Margaretha was obliged to join a work detail. Along with the rest of the
men he had to clear streets of obstacles and repair bridges. The first stint
was not so bad. He worked all day and found it no more tiring than
doing four hours in the garden. He came to the conclusion that the
Russians were kinder to civilian workers than the Nazis had ever been. It
got tougher. While he was working near his house his wife brought him
a snack of a couple of sandwiches. The bread was already two weeks old,
and he had to drink a lot of black coffee to swallow it. The detail worked
for twenty-four hours this time. When they let him go he slept for ten
hours. 51

With the hostilities at an end and the Nazis gone, Margaretha and his
wife joined the resistance. This presumably meant no more than that they
could prove themselves to have been consistently anti-Nazi during the
Third Reich. Once they had signed the register they were issued with
red—white—red armbands. There was a political opening for Eugen in the
fledgling, Christian democrat Austrian People’s Party or OVP. This was
being formed from a wide base: the white- and blue-collar workers were
under Leopold Kunschak and Lois Weinberger, the peasants’ league was
being led by Leopold Figl and Schumy, and the middle class by Julius
Raab. For the time being it was respectable to be on the left. The
‘Liberation Movement’ was made up of 50 per cent socialists, 40 per cent
communists and just 10 per cent ‘bourgeois’ parties. 52 Scharfwas one of the
men behind the recreation of the Austrian socialists. At their session on the
14 April they rejected the idea of calling it the Social Democratic Party and
plumped for the Austrian Socialist Party, or SPO instead. That way it was
hoped people would forget that it had condoned the Anschluss. It very
quickly fended off Soviet-backed moves to amalgamate with the com¬
munists. Fischer had returned from Moscow with instructions to eschew
Marxism-Leninism for the time being. The stress was to be on Austria:
‘The glorious Austrian past must be given its true worth . . . The Radetzky
March must become a national song, sung in schools.’ 53

The economist Margaretha noticed that most of the shops in the 1st

THE FALL OF VIENNA

Bezirk were boarded up, with ‘Empty’ written on the shutters. Foreign
workers were free-wheeling their carts piled high with loot. Both the
Parliament building and the Ministry of Justice were partly burned out. 54
Schoner too resumed his walks. On the 18th he stopped to admire a fresh
Russian grave on the Heldenplatz which was festooned with flowers.
Drunken Russians in the Burggasse were pummelling on doors, but the
Viennese knew their game by now, and no one opened up. There were
long queues outside the butchers and bakers: meat had virtually disappeared
and bread was a rarity. A day or two later the Austrians’ mouths began to
water when they saw a hundred or so Hungarian cows with strange horns
driven through the centre of the city by Red Army soldiers.

The Viennese were making trips out to the woods with prams and
wheelbarrows to gather wood and to look for wild mushrooms or crayfish.
The Cafe Fenstergucker had been plundered again, but the raiders had not
taken the schnapps. Schoner concluded that they had been robbed by the
Viennese: the Russians would not have left the alcohol, and some precious
tea had gone. It was generally easy to tell who robbed you for that reason.
The Russians wanted drink, gold or watches. If anything else went, the
authors were civilians. At the Hotel Astoria, Aunt Mili was driven to dis¬
traction by the nightly hunts for chambermaids. The Astoria was more
fortunate than the Hotel Metropol, which burned down on the 19th. It
had ceased to be a hotel in 1938, when it became Gestapo Headquarters. 55
No one regretted its passing.

On 20 April, Hitler’s birthday, the eighty-three-year-old Graf Albert
Mensdorff came into the Foreign Office to offer his services. He had been
Austro-Hungarian ambassador to the Court of St James’s in 1914. Schoner
recalled the count expressing very Nazi views in the Jockey Club two years
before.* He died of starvation on 15 June 1945. The Austrian Foreign
Office was ready for action, although it was touch and go whether the
Russians would allow its officials to do anything. Schoner had been given
a pass by the city council, but another diplomat who had presented his to
the Red Army sentry had seen it rudely tossed into the canal. 56

The following day Schoner learned that the Americans had reached
Pilsen in Czechoslovakia. Everyone was looking forward to the arrival of
the Western Allies. They had all had enough of the Russians, who were
certain to install Karl Renner as chancellor. Everyone chose to remember
the open letter in which he had pledged his support for the Anschluss in
1938. On 23 April news of the arrest of the former German ambassador to

* This now seems unlikely.

CHAOS

Austria, Franz von Papen, was a cause of jubilation. He had been in Vienna
in 1938: ‘he deserved something for Austria’s sake’, wrote Schoner. 57

The refurbishment of Renner was Stalin’s idea. As Austria was being
discussed one day he asked, ‘Where is that social democrat Renner now,
the one who was a disciple of Kautsky? For years he was one of the lead¬
ers of Austrian social democracy and was, if I recall, president of the last
Austrian Parliament.’ 58 No one knew the answer at the time, but as soon as
the dust had settled the Russians had gone looking for the vintage social¬
ist who had brought in the First Republic. They considered him the sort
of soft ideologist who would allow their men to move safely behind the
scenes. They didn’t trust him, and were aware that he had voiced his sup¬
port for the Anschluss. They found him on 3 April when, as luck would
have it, he protested about the behaviour of Soviet troops to the Russian
commander in the Lower Austrian village of Gloggnitz. Gloggnitz was
close to Wiener Neustadt, where the Red Army met heavy resistance for
the first time. The Russians scooped him up with his family and installed
him in the nearby Schloss Eichbiichl. 59 Renner proceeded to heap praise
on the Soviet system, and claim that ‘liberation’ by the Russians was all
they — and he — had ever dreamed of. The Social Democrats, together with
the Communist Party, of course, would now be in a position to provide the
necessary political security. 60 His puppet-status inspired distrust in the
West, and he played innocent when the Americans asked him later how big
a role the Russians had had in his appointment. He insisted that the
Russians did not interfere with his decisions, but the American agent who
saw him in August 1945 was all too aware of the Russian captain who sat
in on their interview. 61

There was a meeting at Renner’s Viennese home in the Wenzgasse in
Hietzing on 23 April. The idea was raised of freely distributing the under¬
secretaries of state among the three interested parties: socialists, communists
and conservatives. Renner made his first stab at a cabinet on the 24th. A
controversial choice was the Muscovite Honner for minister of the interior
and chief of police. It was, however, standard Stalinist practice to place a
communist in this role. Joham at finance was controversial in a different
way: he had been friendly with the Nazis during his time at the Credit
Anstalt. Dr Gero was nominated minister of justice. Schoner noted that he
was a ‘Mischling’ — he had Jewish blood. That other Muscovite, Ernst
Fischer, was also to be given a job. 62

Schoner was not so unhappy about Honner. It was a ‘thankless and dif¬
ficult post’ and with any luck he would prove unpopular. The Russians
were pushing for the reopening of the theatres and cinemas. Because of the

THE FALL OF VIENNA

war damage, most of Vienna’s great cultural institutions had to make do
with what space they could find. The Burgtheater performed in the
Ronacher.* The Opera had been bombed out. Klemens Krauss was
appointed chief conductor amid widespread disappointment. Krauss had
blotted his copybook in 1934 when he had emigrated to Germany at the
time of Dollfuss’s assassination by the Nazis, and his scandalous behaviour
had not been forgotten. The first post-Nazi newspaper came out, but that
was a disappointment too, as it looked too much like Goebbels’s Volkische
Beobachter - short on news and big on propaganda. It was no surprise that
the editor was the communist Fischer. 63

News reached Schoner on the 24th of a new Andreas Hofefl fighting
the Nazis in the Tyrol. The man gave his name as Plattner. He seems to
have been a flash in the pan, although it was true that the Tyroleans were
pushing the Nazis out before the arrival of the Americans. With Austria
the ‘victim’ and Italy a former Axis power, ‘everyone was waiting for the
return of the South Tyrol’ to Austria. There was a rumour that reached the
ears of both Schoner and Margaretha that the former chancellor Kurt von
Schuschnigg had been poisoned in Sachsenhausen concentration camp. As
it was he was on the way to the South Tyrol him self. I" On 26 April, an
interim government was formed under Karl Renner.

It was an attempt to balance the interests of the Christian socialists, the
socialists and the communists, albeit dominated by moderate socialists like
Renner and his vice-chancellor, Adolf Scharf. Of the communists, Fischer
was given the important portfolio of ‘popular enlightenment, education
and culture’ and Honner was made minister of the interior. The Christian
Democrat minister Kunschak was a notorious antisemite, which made the
Jews who formed the bulk of the Austrian Centre reluctant to go home. 64
Margaretha heard about it when a girl gave him a copy of the Soviet-
sponsored Neues Osterreich which contained the details of Renner’s cabinet
and the proclamation. He thought the latter ‘excellent, a real masterpiece’.
It declared that Austria would return to the constitution of 1920. The
Anschluss, said the proclamation, had been involuntary; it had been
imposed on Austria and was therefore null and void. Margaretha then
repaired to the Naschmarkt, where he was able to purchase some precious
root vegetables. 65

On Friday 27 April the representatives of the permitted political parties

* The equivalent of the Royal National Theatre performing in a music hall,
f The Tyrolean innkeeper Andreas Hofer had fought Napoleon, and was shot by the French
in 1810.

J See below pp. 82-4.

CHAOS

signed a declaration of independence from Germany. The Soviets recog¬
nised Renner’s regime, but only as far as the Danube, because Tolbukhin’s
troops were still fighting in the Weinviertel. The Second Republic was
born under the aegis of the Red Army. That afternoon Schoner aban¬
doned his old coat and skiing trousers for a silk shirt and a dark suit. The
Vienna Philharmonic was going to play its first concert since the liberation.
At 4 p.m. there was a private performance at the Large Concert Hall, as the
Musikverein building had been damaged. The hall was only three-quarters
full, but a substantial number of Adabeis had gathered to watch the arrival
of civil servants, communists and Russian army officers. The orchestra was
heartily applauded, Krauss audibly less so. Some people even hissed. The
programme was Schuberts Unfinished, Beethoven’s Leonore 3 and
Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony: ‘A tribute to the immortal spirit of Vienna
and the great, classic time of Viennese music and to the musical genius of
Russia.’ The Philharmonic played the Schubert ‘without soul’; they were
better at the Beethoven. The Tchaikovsky was ‘brilliantly played’.

In the interval the assistant mayor, the communist Steinhardt, made a
speech in which he thanked the Red Army for liberating them from the
‘brown plague’. There was loud cheering. He then announced a full pro¬
gramme of cultural events: there was to be a performance by the
Burgtheater company of Sapplw on the 30 April and the State Opera com¬
pany would do Hie Marriage of Figaro at the Volksoper. At the Akademie
Theater they would have Nestroy’s Mcid aus der Vorstadt. The stress was
clearly on ‘Austrian culture’ for the time being. The Raimund and
Josefstadt* theatres were to reopen together with nine cinemas. In reality
this meant showing a lot of Soviet films without subtitles. 66

It was only at the end of April that the Western Allies appeared at the
Austrian border. The Americans took Innsbruck, Salzburg and Linz; the
British came up through Italy on the 28th and marched into Carinthia and
Styria before meeting up with Soviet forces. That same day the Nazi
fellow traveller Joham was rejected as a member of the provisional govern¬
ment. Loudspeakers played ‘O Du mein Osterreich’. The Russians stood
by and tacitly blessed the regime they had ushered in. The British, how¬
ever, had had their worst fears confirmed, and promptly refused to
recognise Renner’s government. The Americans followed suit. Renner
responded by hailing Stalin as the ‘greatest military commander of all
time’. Later Schoner met a friend who had just returned from suburban
Weidling. There had been persistent raping at his country house. A

* The Josefstadt is where Anna Schmidt is engaged as a soubrette in The Third Man.

THE FALL OF VIENNA

seventeen-year-old girl who had tried to defend herself had been shot. ‘On
the periphery it is much worse than it is in the inner city.’ 67

On the 29th five tramlines began to work again. Renner appeared in the
company of two Russian officers at the Foreign Office dressed in a stiff
collar, a tie with pearl pin, grey spats and an old brown hat. He had a white
goatee beard stained with nicotine from his diet of cigars 68 and boasted a
small pot belly. He was ready for his detractors. He did not deny that he
had been in favour of the Anschluss, only that he had wanted union with
the Nazis. He was keen to do down the Austro-fascists of the Corporate
State. He told the diplomats that Dollfuss people were as unwelcome in the
new Austria as Nazis. He let it be known that he wanted the Austro-fascists
excluded from the suffrage for ten years. As it was, it proved easy to restock
the ministries with untainted civil servants: all they had to do was reappoint
those prematurely retired in the time of the Corporate State. 69 Naturally,
most of them were socialists, and Wollersdorf old-boys.

It was May Day, and a big parade was laid on for the Russians. Austrian
flags had been made out of old swastikas, and the women had fashioned
headscarves out of the same material. The people wore red carnations and
greeted one another with the word ‘Freiheif or ‘freedom’, rather than the
usual ‘Griiss Gott!’ The Russians made the city a present of tons of provi¬
sions. The Viennese said it was all food they had plundered from them in
the first place. 70 The gift was supposed to last for a month. It meant a daily
ration of 1,620 calories for heavy workers, 970 for white-collar staff and 833
for children. 71 The French arrived in Bregenz on Lake Constance that same
day. On 6 May they had established themselves in a small part of their zone,
the Upper Tyrol. By the time of the German capitulation on 8 May, the
whole of Austria was occupied. Just in case anyone was to forget, the
French put up signposts for their own troops: ‘Ici Autriche, pays ami’
(This is Austria, these are our friends). 72

The Western Allies were still a long way off. There were rumours that
the Americans were making difficulties for Austria because of Stalin’s spon¬
sorship of the Lublin Poles. On 3 May a story did the rounds about the
partition of Vienna. The British, it seemed, were going to receive the 1st
Bezirk. It was the first time the Viennese had heard that the French too
were to have their slice of the cake. Schoner was later told that the French
were to receive central Vienna, and also the 7th Bezirk where he lived. The
new communist police president, Hautmann, decreed that all foreigners
and forced labourers had to leave Vienna. They were to assemble in
Wiener Neustadt until transport could be arranged for them. The Schoners
lost their two Ukrainian servant girls and an Italian cook. 73

CHAOS

The Fiihrer had committed suicide on 30 April, but the Wehrmacht and
the SS were still fighting. Schoner was appalled to see that the Austrians
were among the most dogged. ‘In the end it is once again apparent that the
Austrians, providing they are really Nazis, are also the most unremitting
partisans of Hitler. German generals from the Reich are capitulating; the
Lohrs and Rendulics* in the south and the north are fighting on.’ 74

The British and the Yugoslavs had finally come to blows over Trieste,
which the former were keen to award to the Italians. Meanwhile the
Russians had begun to deport 500 Austrians from Floridsdorf in the sub¬
urbs. Field Marshal Alexander was thought to be in Vienna, staying at the
Hotel Imperial, and between Stockerau, Tulin and Korneuburg in Lower
Austria the Wehrmacht and the SS were still holding out on 6 May.
Vlasov’s army was leaving its positions in Prague and heading south to
Lower Austria, and it looked as if fighting could flare up again. Vlasov and
his Cossacks had been fighting alongside the SS, and he did not wish to be
captured by the Red Army who would have executed him immediately as
a traitor. His departure coincided with the Soviet-inspired uprising in
Prague. On the 7th Schoner heard a distorted rumour that Hitler’s succes¬
sor Admiral Donitz had surrendered unconditionally in Copenhagen.
Eisenhower had said the war was over, but there was still gunfire to be
heard. Margaretha concluded that it was Vlasov’s army fighting a path to
the Western Allies. 75 The truce was pronounced at 2 p.m. that day, but
there was no more champagne to celebrate with. They made good with
meatballs, and in the evening ‘goulash, like in peacetime!’ 76

* Romanian-born Colonel General Alexander Lohr was handed over to the Yugoslavs by
the British, and later executed for ordering the bombardment of Belgrade. Colonel General
Lothar Rendulic, born in Wiener Neustadt, was sentenced to twenty-five years for war
crimes. He was released in 1951.

Wild Times: A Picture of Liberated
Central Europe in 1945

On 8 May Germany had surrendered unconditionally and was occu¬
pied by the victorious powers. Everyone was freed from National
Socialist tyranny. Those whose lives were in danger from the regime
were finally spared. But for many others, however, the misery and risk
of death had not disappeared. For countless people the suffering only
began with the end of the war.

Richard von Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten: Erinnerungen, Berlin 1997, 95

Liberation from the East

W hat was true of Vienna applied, to a lesser or greater extent, to every
town and city in Germany and Austria: if they had not been
knocked flat, they had been at least partially destroyed. Many insignificant
market towns and villages had been reduced to piles of rubble as well, vic¬
tims of the Allied advance, and the process continued until the Allies
believed they had wholly subdued the enemy. Besides the terrible loss of
human life, much treasure was gone for good, and cities that had been the
glory of central Europe were no more.

There were the Residenzen, the former court capitals: Dresden had been
smashed to smithereens as a Valentine’s Day present to the Red Army; in
Munich the destruction of so many cultural monuments prompted Richard
Strauss’s most moving composition, Die Metamorphosen; and the baroque
gem of Wurzburg, Dresden’s equivalent in the west, had been reduced to
rubble by the USAAF in the last days of the war. The Welf capitals of
Hanover and Brunswick had suffered the loss of their palaces;* Bayreuth
was the victim of its Wagner-cult; two-thirds of Weimar was flattened on
account of Goethe and Schiller. Cassel was so badly damaged that the

* Brunswick’s palace was pulled down and replaced by a shopping centre.

CHAOS

ruins were bulldozed. The lack of any remaining infrastructure obliged the
American army to plant its HQ in the spa town of Wiesbaden, which had
come out of the war only slightly mauled, because bad weather had caused
the air force to drop the bulk of its payload on the outlying woods.

Not all Germany’s gems had been homes to small courts. There was
Hildesheim, where the wooden houses burned for a fortnight before the
flames could be extinguished, and where the two largest Carolingian
churches went up in smoke. Hamburg had been the testing ground for
Britain’s and America’s weapons of mass destruction in 1943: in two days
of bombing, 50,000 had died. The ancient centre of Frankfurt-am-Main
was gone; a few facades on the latter’s Romerberg recalled the glories of
what had been before. Little remained of the centres of the former Roman
cities of Cologne and Trier, or of Charlemagne’s capital, Aachen, where
the baptistery lay open to the skies; the Bavarian cities of Augsburg and
Regensburg had been pulverised. Leipzig, the capital of the German book
trade, was badly bruised; Breslau smouldered long after the end of the war
as the Russians lit fires in the ruins. The medieval cores of Stettin and
Danzig had been levelled by Soviet artillery. The list is endless.

The inhabitants of urban Germany were dead or scattered. The sur¬
vivors generally headed west, hoping to reach the Western Allies who —
they believed — would treat them more fairly than the Red Army. Only a
few brave souls ventured east. One of these was Ursula von Kardorff, who
undertook a mission to Berlin in September 1945 and listed the shattered
cities as she went: ‘Darmstadt, Mannheim, Hanau - a landscape of craters
provoking extreme sadness. Add to this the prison camps surrounded by
barbed wire and their watchtowers, the ruins, the detonated bridges and
autobahn viaducts. Scorched earth, just as Hitler dreamed up for his
people.’ 1

East Prussia

East Prussia was the first German region visited by the Red Army, and to
some extent the worst treated. The first incursion, at Nemmersdorf on 21
October 1944, was to be a foretaste. In the course of a single night the Red
Army killed seventy-two women and one man. Most of the women had
been raped, of whom the oldest was eighty-four. Some of the victims had
been crucified. Gauleiter Koch refused to allow the population to flee.
Hitler wanted East Prussia to prove the resilience of the German people.
That autumn the East Prussians watched the departure of the birds: ‘Yes,
you are now flying away! And us? What is to become of us and our land?’ 2

WILD TIMES

Then in January 1945 the Soviet offensive began. The Russians broke
through the German lines on the 17th. Insterburg was the first to fall, fol¬
lowed by Tilsit and Gumbinnen. Koch, who had been named commissar
for the defence of the Reich, finally gave permission for the civilian pop¬
ulation to leave. Almost simultaneously, however, the Red Army reached
Elbing on the Baltic, thereby cutting East Prussia off from the Reich. The
East Prussians resorted to every conceivable means of leaving the belea¬
guered territory and reaching what was believed to be the safety of the west
bank of the Vistula. Trains, however, ran head on into the Russian advance
and were stopped in their tracks. Passengers froze in the icy temperatures,
and the dead were thrown from the windows. 3

Ships fared no better. They were sunk as they left the harbour of Pillau
outside Konigsberg. Hundreds of thousands of refugees trekked across the
ice that covered the inland seas of the Frisches and Kurisches Half in heav¬
ily laden carts and proceeded towards Danzig. The Russians warned them
they would fire at the ice from their warships on 15 February. The shells hit
men and horses. Where the ice was smashed, the trekkers put up tempor¬
ary bridges and persevered. The night was pitch black. All they could hear
was ‘Shooting, screaming and screeching’. When dawn broke they realised
the full horror: body upon body, man and horse; and every now and then
the chassis of a cart sticking out of the ice. Those who succeeded in
making it to the thin strip of land that borders Half and Nehrung had a
choice of heading north to the ships at Pillau or south-west towards
Danzig. 4

One family that left an account of the crossing headed south to Stutthof,
the home of the infamous concentration camp to the east of Danzig. The
road to Danzig was barred; one of the horses went into labour; and the
Russians continued the bombardment of the refugees from the sea. The
family was lucky enough to reach Hela Point. From there they were
shipped to Judand. They did not see Germany again until they were repat¬
riated from Denmark in November 1948. 5 The noose tightened around
Konigsberg on 26 January 1945. Very soon the road to the sea and Pillau
was cut off. The city held out until 9 April. The first the surgeon Hans
Lehndorff knew of the fall of Konigsberg was when Russians soldiers
broke into his hospital and robbed his patients of their watches, beating up
anyone who stood in their way. Fountain pens were the next craving. The
sick and injured were tipped out of their beds, bandages ripped from their
wounds, and papers burned to create more light to steal by. All the hospi¬
tal’s provision in food was consumed or squandered in a matter of hours. 6
One of the attackers, ‘a really young fellow, suddenly burst into tears

CHAOS

because he had yet to find a watch. He struck three fingers in the air. He
was going to shoot three people if he did not get one at once.’ They found
him a watch. 7

General Lasch* capitulated the next day and swarms of soldiers attacked
the population as they ventured out of the warrens they had inhabited
during the long siege. They were beaten, robbed, stripped and, if female,
raped. The womens screams could be heard everywhere: ‘SchieB doch!’
they shouted. ‘Go on, shoot!’ The sisters in the hospital were raped by
‘blood-crazed children’, sixteen years old at the most. The pious Lehndorff
could feel the women’s souls dying. ‘Is not every word an accusation
against me? Is there no opportunity to throw oneself between them and
through it to find an honourable death?’ 8 Some of the women were laugh¬
ing hysterically. One of the conquerors was Alexander Solzhenitsyn. He
wote of the rapes in a poem called ‘Prussian Nights’:

The little daughter’s on the mattress,

Dead. How many have been on it
A platoon, a company perhaps?

A girl’s been turned into a woman.

A woman turned into a corpse. 9

Bunkers and shelters were simply torched with flame-throwers. A very
large number of Konigsberger took their own lives to escape the indignity
of Soviet revenge. That night the surgeon looked out into the hospital
courtyard to see it filled with horses and caravans. It could have been
deepest Asia. 10

Lehndorff was touched by the help he had from the French forced
labourers. They too were robbed by the Red Army. ‘Adieu, docteur!’ one
of them cried out as Lehndorff successfully ran away from a Russian soldier
with a submachine gun who was angry that the surgeon had pushed him out
of the way, making him fall on his back. Lehndorff removed his white coat,
and the soldier did not recognise him again. Episodes of this sort did not
make the business of treating the sick and wounded any easier. The instru¬
ments were pilfered off the operating table. One glimmer of light came
when they were visited by a Russian major who wanted a wart removed.
After the hospital staff cut it out, he gave them temporary protection. 11

Worse was to come when the Russians found alcohol. On 11 April
they located the Menthal distillery. They now set fire to the undamaged
parts of the city. The bad mood of the Red Army was made more acute

* Lasch was sentenced to death in absentia and his family arrested. Koch escaped from Pillau
after telling the population to stand firm.

WILD TIMES

by syphilis and gonorrhoea. The soldiers ran back to the hospitals and
demanded treatment at gunpoint. In their wilder orgies, however, they
had smashed the dispensary to smithereens. Even Lehndorff could not
resist a moment of Schadenfreude. 12 It did not last long. His soulmate -
designated simply by the name ‘Doktora’ — was dragged from the oper¬
ating table and raped. Lehndorff had not been there at the time, and at
first he did not notice the change in her. She stood at the table, binding
wounds in the same way: ‘but these eyes! A barb stuck into the remains
of my soul.’ A little while later she came to him in her torn tracksuit. She
asked for her Bible. She had put pills aside for when she needed them.
The horror had yet to abate, and she fought off three more attacks.
Finally when she burst into tears Lehndorff was relieved: ‘I am happy that
she has finally given in.’ 13

The city was burning. Once the fun was over the remaining citizens
were assembled for forced marches to camps. Anyone who was too old or
too ill was shot there and then, either in their beds or in the gutters. On 12
April Lehndorff was one of those rounded up and marched out of the city.
As he walked out, the Russians cheered, shouting, ‘Gitlair Kapoot!’
(Hitler’s had it!). He marched for twenty-five kilometres. With the help of
Polish auxiliaries the women were dragged away from the column with
cries of ‘Davai, suda!’ (Come, woman!). Before he left the hospital
Lehndorff had found a female patient with a head wound who had been
raped countless times without ever being aware of it. 14

They were marched to camps, some of which were in Konigsberg itself,
like the one in the garage of the Rothenstein Barracks. On the promise of
better treatment, some Germans acted as kapos — prisoners who had
wormed their way into positions of trust — dealing out blows for their
Soviet masters. A number of these were allegedly communists, who
believed their day had come. 15 Had they expected to become masters of
the city now that the Nazis had been deposed, they were deluding them¬
selves. Konigsberg had been awarded to the Soviet Union and it was now
administered as a Soviet city. The German population would be at best
deported, at worst exterminated. The remaining buildings that had escaped
the British raid in August 1944, or which had not been filled with Soviet
political bureaux — like the Kommandatura, or military command, in
the Ziethenstrasse and the old Gestapo Headquarters — were rased to the
ground. A Soviet city would be built on the site of the old capital of
the Teutonic Knights.

The Russians were expecting to find the Amber Room from Tsarskoe
Selo in the shattered Royal Schloss. The invading Germans had packaged it

CHAOS

up and sent it back to a secret location in Germany.* Later it was put on dis¬
play in the Schloss, where Marianne Gunther visited it on 15 March 1943.
The Russians appear to have accidentally incinerated the room themselves
in their zeal to put the city to the torch; they then accused the Germans of
hiding it to cover up its wanton destruction by their own men. 16

It is estimated that there were as many as 110,000 Germans left in
Konigsberg on 9 April. When the Soviets conducted a head count in
June, 73,000 remained. Graf Plettenberg maintained that the Russians had
actually tied Hitler Youths to horses and torn them limb from limb, but in
the absence of any other reports of this taking place in Konigsberg, it has
to be discounted. 17 Nonetheless, as one Konigsberger maintained, ‘a man
was worth less than the watch he wore’. 18

Valiant efforts were made to preserve life against all odds. Professor
Wilhelm Starlinger ran a hospital for Germans in the Ziegelstrasse until he
was deported to Siberia. It handled 13,200 patients until it was closed in
1947. Of these around 15 per cent died, chiefly of typhus and malaria.
Others were treated at the Barmherzigkeit, or Sisters of Mercy, a bombed-
out building administered by Professor Arthur Bottner. He was assisted by
Lehndorff and the hygienist Hans Schubert. Both left records of their
experiences in Konigsberg. Lehndorff’s are possibly the most moving
account of human suffering written anywhere and at any time.

Those who lived in the villages of East Prussia fared no better than the
townsfolk. A witness who made it to the west talked of a poor village girl
who was raped by an entire tank squadron from eight in the evening to
nine in the morning. One man was shot and fed to the pigs. 19 Another
woman tried to take the last train from Mohringen, but it was derailed and
the passengers proceeded on foot, only to run into the Russians. She
describes these soldiers breaking into a farmhouse and finding an Iron
Cross, Second Class. The owner of the decoration and his wife were taken
out and shot in the back of the head. The narrator herself was raped
around twenty times the night she was captured, but there was worse in
store. She was carried off by two officers and seven men, whom she sus¬
pected were deserters, or temporarily estranged from their unit. They
lodged her and eight other females, including a fourteen-year-old girl, in
a house in the forest, where they raped them for a week. Their ordeal came
to an end only when the GPU, the secret police, found the house. The

* The irony was that the room had been made for the Royal Schloss in Berlin — another
victim of the war — and Prussia’s first king, the spendthrift Frederick I. His austere son,
Frederick William, gave the room to Peter the Great in exchange for a squad of tall soldiers,
a commodity he valued more highly than amber.

WILD TIMES

woman was then taken to Insterburg and shipped beyond Stalingrad to the
north-eastern Urals. She was in a carriage with fifty women for three
weeks. During that time she had only two hot meals. The guards gave
them salted herrings. They were so thirsty that they licked the condensa¬
tion off the window panes. Five of the women had died by the time they
reached their destination. They were suffering from typhus, dysentery and
facial erysipelas. In August 1945 she was sent back to Germany. 20

Christel Beckmann reached Mecklenburg, whence she sent the teacher
Marianne Gunther news of the tiny village of Gerdauken at the end of 1945:

Hildegard Schustereit was dragged off with the other girls and died in the
Urals. In the village practically all the old people are dead. My cousin Ingrid
Iwahn is also dead, so are Aunt and Uncle Matschull, my classmate Lotte
Jakobeit and her mother. Lies Wallat and Eva Gronwald. Siegfried Schwarm
has also died, his mother buried him in the gutter. Herr von Kohs was killed,
Frau von Kohs came back to the village and died of typhus. Their children
have been shared out: little Franka has gone to Frau Kather, one of the boys
is with Frau Schwarm, the other with Frau Frose. My dear cousin Herta was
frequently raped, the other women too. The Russians behaved badly in
Mecklenburg, but it was nothing to what they did at home. The farms lie
dormant. The land is overgrown with thistles and thorns. They all have to
work in Deimehoh, Gertrud Beckmann and my cousin Herta too. As
regards animals they have only dogs, cats, mice and rats; there is not a cow,
a pig or a hen. They have all lost their things: the last bed, clothing, shoes,
everything; they have just the rags on their bodies. 21

Pomerania

The war had ended much earlier for the Krockows at Glowitz in eastern
Pomerania. The Russians came in March, announcing their arrival by set¬
ting fire to the manor house. At the time no one could understand why
they should destroy a useful building. They attributed the Russian wrath to
a portrait of an ancestor, resplendent in his uniform as a colonel of the hus¬
sars, that had made the invaders think of Hermann Goring. It was more
likely, however, that the manor excited a class-hatred among the Russians
and accounted for their cheering from the elegant parterres as this symbol
of hated Junkertum went up in flames. The Junkers fared no better on the
whole. Even an implacable opponent of the Nazis, like Eberhard von
Braunschweig, was hauled out with his family and shot. 22

The refugees and the Russians had arrived with plagues of disease,
venereal and other (dysentery, typhoid and spotted fever). Not even the
animals were spared: the cows caught foot and mouth disease, the pigs

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erysipelas and the horses equinia. Not that it mattered much. The Russian
arrival had been the cue for hecatombs in every farmyard. The beasts were
butchered and salted away. No one knew when food would be available
again. The farms and houses were stripped of everything. There was even
an order issued that all musical instruments be delivered to the railway sta¬
tions. There they lay, braving the elements, until children began to take
them back, anything that was still workable.

To protect themselves against the Russians the women covered them¬
selves with ashes to make themselves look old, hobbled around on crutches
or painted on red spots to feign disease. In a village near Greifenberg, in the
western part of East Pomerania, the squires wife Kathe von Nonnann took
the precaution of removing her false front tooth to make herself look older,
and dressed herself in peasant costume. The other women adopted the
same attire. It rarely worked — the Russians were none too choosy anyhow,
and the victims ranged in age from tiny children to great-grandmothers.
Others kept their children by them at all times. Libussa von Krockow had
recently given birth, and the baby at her breast proved a disincentive to
Russian attacks. The Russians were often very taken with the German
children, hugging and kissing them and giving them things to eat.

Kathe von Normann saw her first Russians on 5 March. An officer
asked for her gold watch, telling her that his own had been destroyed
when his hand was wounded. Frau von Normann tried to ascertain
whether this was true or not, but he hid his hand. The next thing he
needed was a race-horse. Her horse was led out and she began to cry. ‘Why
woman cry?’ the officer asked in fractured German. ‘About an animal, it is
war, and about people.’ A short while later the horse returned by itself,
having thrown its Russian rider. 23

The next visitors were a couple of grimy soldiers demanding shoes.
Philipp von Normann was obliged to hand over his own. When they
noticed his wife one of the men uttered the terrible words, ‘Frau, konim!’
Kathe von Normann did not know what he wanted and ran behind her
husband, sobbing. The man shouted to her again to come, but his com¬
panion began to yell at him, and both left. Herr von Normann had to
explain to his wife what was at stake: ‘It might happen now that I will have
to protect you, and then I shall be shot.’ They assembled the family in one
room and prepared for the siege. 24

The Russians moved into the house, together with an interpreter, who
counselled them to lock themselves in at night. That night they were
helpless to prevent the Russians from stealing the silver, making off with it
over the sleeping children. Next they found the schnapps. Frau von

WILD TIMES

Normann’s mother was obliged to try each botde first, lest it be poisoned. She
replied with a few lines of broken Polish that had no effect on the Russians.
They drank three of the four bottles, then fell asleep, and the Normanns were
relieved to hear their snores. Kathe s mother had indeed prepared poison, but
for them. Philipp von Nonnann refused to countenance suicide: ‘It is still
a sin, and even if we can justify it for ourselves, the three children have a
right to live. We cannot justify it to God.’ 25 Dawn was an age coming. While
Herr von Normann went out into the farmyard, his wife went to the kitchen
where she found Russian women soldiers with unruly hair, washing them¬
selves. The boarders had run through a stock of some 3,000 eggs that had
been destined for the military hospital; the lavatories were a sight to behold.

The Russians were becoming ever bolder in their demands. Philipp lost
his watch, his wedding ring and his signet ring. Then he was interrogated.
Although he had not been a member of the Party (the Polish estate work¬
ers confirmed this), his military ID was enough to condemn him. He was
taken away. He hugged his wife and children: ‘God protect you!’ He died
of dysentery in a Russian camp in Schwiebus in May. 26

It was Kathe von Normann’s turn next. She was told to go with the sol¬
diers. She sent for a worker who could translate: she would go only with
her children, otherwise they should shoot all four of them straight away.
The Russians reconsidered: she and her family had five minutes to pack
and get out of the house. Soon afterwards she saw the Russian general
arrive.

As the women of the estate left en masse to find a refuge, the Russians
kept coming back to search for arms and watches. Then they caught sight
of a Frau Westphal and tried to drag her away. She was defended by her
ten-year-old son with an axe, until the Russians finally desisted and merely
robbed her of a pot of lard. The women made for comparative shelter in
the woods, although the weather was bitterly cold and there were frequent
snowfalls. Eventually they found quarters in one of the many farmhouses
abandoned by Germans fleeing across the Oder. The usual news came in
from the neighbouring villages: a woman raped twenty times, and she was
not the only one. Frau von Normann looked at her son. ‘He doesn’t cry,
but the sight of indescribable misery in the eyes of my ten year old I shall
never forget so long as I live.’ 27

On 12 March rumours reached Kathe von Normann that Polish units
had occupied some of the local villages. She drew the wrong conclu¬
sions - she thought they would want to see the farms working again under
their industrious German owners. She had no inkling, any more than
anyone else, that her land had already been promised to the Poles.

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It was on 30 March that General Berling’s First Polish Army raised their
flag on Danzig town hall. The fighting had come to an end, and the
people were gradually emerging from the cellars where they had lived
through the Russian shelling. The Western Allies were informed that a
Wojewoda or provincial governor had been appointed. Only later did the
Americans realise that this was all part of the fait accompli, and that Danzig
was going to be incorporated into a Polish state shifted westwards, to allow
the Soviets to hang on to the territory they had negotiated over with
Ribbentrop in 1939. 38

The Soviets estimated that 39,000 dead bodies lay in the city. They had
captured 10,000 German soldiers. Others held out on the tip of the Hela
Peninsula where General von Sauken was performing a remarkable job in
transporting citizens and troops to Schleswig-Holstein. Some 1,200,000
escaped the Red Army in this way before Sauken capitulated on 9 May.
Not all of them survived the crossing. Two out of four barges containing
prisoners from the Stutthof concentration camp at the mouth of the Vistula
failed to make it: one was scuttled by the SS, the other was bombed by the
RAF. The two that reached Neustadt, north of Liibeck, were fired on by
SS men and naval personnel. 39 The Russians did not actually bother to
enter Stutthof until 9 May, more than a month after the fall of Danzig.
Stutthof was just one of 2,000 camps, great and small, liberated by the Allies
between the autumn of 1944 and the late spring of 1945. Most of the pris¬
oners at Stutthof were women, and most of the women Jews. About 3,000
had been shot or thrown into the icy waters of the Bight in January. 30

Germany’s prisons were also evacuated. Once again it seemed that the
Nazis did not want the world to know what they had been perpetrating. In
November prisons had been emptied on the left bank of the Rhine. A
month later they emptied the gaols of Konigsberg. The inmates were
transferred to penal institutions in central Germany. Prisoners were divided
into three groups: those who could be released; those who could be
despatched to army formations; and those who were under no circum¬
stance to be liberated. This last group was largely made up of racial types
that were anathema to the Nazis: Jews and ‘half-Jews’ above all, but gyp¬
sies, Poles and Czechs as well. Also in this category were the worst
criminals — murderers and psychopaths. These could be shot if necessary. 31

The marches took place in a fiercely cold winter, and many died.
Nonetheless the death rate was not as high as on the similar treks that took
place on the closing of the extermination and concentration camps. It has
been estimated there were fifty-two of these ‘death marches’ involving
69,000 people, of whom 59 per cent perished. 32 Women prisoners proved

WILD TIMES

frailer, and many were raped by retreating German soldiers, or captured and
killed by the Red Army. The prison warders who accompanied the treks
were not as brutal as concentration camp guards, and up to a third of the
convicts managed to escape. More closely watched were the ‘NIST or
Nacht und Nebel (night and fog) prisoners, who had simply been abducted
and never formally tried. At best they were to be transferred to a concen¬
tration camp; at worst shot. 33

In Danzig it was open season for the Russian soldiers once again. They
raped, murdered and pillaged. Women between the ages of twelve and
seventy-five were raped; boys who sought to rescue their mothers were
pitilessly shot. The Russians defiled the ancient Cathedral of Oliva and
raped the Sisters of Mercy. Later they put the building to the torch. In the
hospitals both nurses and female doctors were subjected to the same out¬
rages after the soldiers drank surgical spirit. Nurses were raped over the
bodies of unconscious patients in the operating theatres together with the
women in the maternity ward. Doctors who tried to stop this were simply
gunned down. The Poles behaved as badly as the Russians. Many
Danzigers took their own lives. 34 The men were rounded up, beaten and
thrown into the concentration camp at Matzkau. From there 800 to 1,000
were despatched to Russia twice daily.

The scene is familiar from Gunter Grass’s novel The Tin Drum of 1959.
Grass was a Danziger, and, although he was serving with the Waffen-SS
when Danzig fell, he speaks with authority. When the Russians break into
his ‘presumed’ father’s grocers shop they rape the widow Greff while play¬
ing with little Kurt. Rapists and child-lovers — two cliches of the invasion.
Not all Red Army soldiers spared children by any means, and not all of
them were rapists either. The protagonist Oskar Matzerath’s father
famously swallows his Nazi Party badge to conceal it, choking to death in
the process: a powerful metaphor for Germany in its hour of defeat. 35 In his
2002 novella Im Krebsgcmg about the sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff at the
end of January 1945 Grass has returned to the theme. The ship was being
used as part of the efforts to evacuate the German population. Anything up
to 9,000 people died in the icy waters, many of them children. It was the
worst maritime tragedy of all time. 36

Silesia

As the Red Army approached German Silesia it liberated the camps at
Auschwitz. The sight that confronted its soldiers doubtless sharpened their
resolve when it came to the Germans. The Russians arrived on the heels

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of the retreating SS, which had been busy destroying the evidence of what
had gone on there. Twenty-nine out of thirty-five storerooms had also
been destroyed, but in the six that remained there was more than enough
evidence to condemn them: 368,280 men’s suits, 836,255 womens coats
and dresses and 5,525 pairs of women’s shoes. In the tannery they found
seven tons of human hair. Seven thousand inmates survived to greet them.
Their places were taken by German POWs and Silesian civilians.

The rest of the victims of Nazi terror had been hurriedly marched
towards the Reich to the more political camps that were in German and
Austrian territory. Mauthausen, which had not been a Jewish camp before,
suddenly became one; Sachsenhausen, Ravensbriick and Buchenwald were
similarly transformed. Belsen was crammed to bursting point with Jewish
prisoners, many of them already suffering from typhus. Other camps that
were restocked in this way were Dora Mittelbau, Gross Rosen and
Flossenbtirg. Thousands died en route . 37

The Russians reached the old Silesian frontier as early as 19 January
1945. The Gauleiter had proclaimed, ‘They will not cross the Silesian
border.’ The next day he authorised the departure of 700,000 Breslauer,
most of them women and children who marched off to Germany in tem¬
peratures of twenty degrees below zero. 38 Some arrived in Dresden and
were camping in the streets when the Anglo-Americans destroyed the city.
Others went to Berlin, where they were burned to death in the great
February raids. The capital of Lower Silesia, Breslau was surrounded on 16
February; it finally surrendered on 6 May. The day before, Hitler’s last
favourite, Field Marshal Ferdinand Schorner, marched his troops away
leaving the commander of the garrison, General Niehoff, to go to the Villa
Colonia to sign the capitulation. Niehoff s soldiers were led off to captiv¬
ity in the east. The city had been one of Hitler’s Kesseln : fortresses to be
defended to the last drop of German blood. It had suffered horribly, and so
had its people. Now they hung white flags from their windows and pre¬
pared for the ordeal.

Those who escaped from Breslau crossed the Neisse river at Gorlitz.
Conditions were so bad there that it has been described as ‘the worst city
in Germany’ at the time. In one appalling incident thirty women were
driven into a barn and raped. When one refused she was shot. The local
Soviet commander heard about the atrocity and went to the barn and shot
four of his own men. In another incident eight Russian soldiers died after
drinking methylated spirits. Forty more were struck blind. 39

Apart from hunting down women to rape, the Russians were anxious
to weed out the major Nazis of Breslau. On 7 May the Red Army

WILD TIMES

deliberately started fires in the ruins. What was left of the city was looted.
On io May the library of the university or Leopoldina for which Brahms
had written his famous Academic Festival Overture went up in flames; on
the 15th it was the turn of the city museum. On the same day the twin
towers of one of the city’s great Backsteingotik churches — St Mary
Magdalene — were blown up. Rival units fought over the remaining food
left by the Germans. ‘The idea that Breslau had been completely destroyed
by the siege was a post-war fiction.’ 40

The occupation followed the usual pattern of three waves: first came the
bombardment and the armies; these were replaced by the second force that
took possession of the land, and anything else for that matter, including the
women; and finally the Poles came in their wake. The last chunk of Silesia
to be taken was the county of Glatz and the Riesengebirge mountains,
which fell to the Red Army only after the ceasefire, so that at least the
quaint villages and the town of Glatz were spared destruction. 41 After the
initial rage and lust abated, the Soviet armies turned their hands to de¬
montage. On 1 June they dismantled the power station at Kraftborn. The
major factories went next, followed by street lights, overhead cables and
freight trains. The soldateska continued to steal watches, window frames,
wheelbarrows and bicycles. They also took every piano they could find.

In the Upper Silesian town of Steinau one mother of two small children
frankly described her ordeal at the hands of the Red Army: ‘A young
Russian with a pistol in his hand came to fetch me. I have to admit that I
was so frightened (and not just of the pistol) that I could not hold my blad¬
der. That didn’t disturb him in the least. You got used to it soon enough
and realised there was no point in putting up a fight.’ 42 Later she went with
her heavily pregnant sister to see a Russian doctor, believing that he would
be a civilised man. They were both raped by the medic and a lieutenant,
even though she herself was menstruating. That was no disincentive
either. 43

The soldiers raped every female they found; one twelve-year-old girl
complained of the terrible tearing they had caused her. On another occa¬
sion when all the surviving Steinauer were taking refuge in a cellar and the
women were once again threatened with gang rape, this same mother
gave her children coffee that had been laced with poison. But the dose was
not strong enough to do them any harm. She thought she was doing the
right thing then: ‘I can only assure people that a mother never believes her¬
self more holy than at that moment.’ When she was subjected to what she
feared would be rape by an entire platoon, she remembered a Russian word
for ‘child’. The rapist got up and escorted her from the room, before the

CHAOS

eyes of the others waiting their turn. The Steinau woman repeated the
story — often told — that the Russians treated children with kindness. She
had seen a tank come up to a child in the middle of a road and the driver
climb out and pick up the boy and place him on the pavement. 44

Peace came to Europe two days after the Russians took Breslau. The
Breslauer scarcely noticed. The remaining German citizens were well
behind the lines. Their fate was mostly decided: unless the Western Allies
were capable of pulling a rabbit out of a hat at the Peace Conference,
Prussia’s second city would fall to Poland and they would be driven west.

Brandenburg

The Red Army encountered death in all its forms on the road to the
German capital. At the Sonnenburg Prison — ‘die Sonne’ as it had been
known to its inmates — they found that 800 chiefly foreign prisoners had
been slaughtered as recently as 30 January 1945, and it had not been
deemed worth while to repatriate them across the Oder. 45 The last batch
of prisoners to be executed at Brandenburg-Gorden were killed on 20
April, Hitler’s birthday. The Russians liberated the prison a week later. The
Russians, accompanied by Polish soldiers, chanced upon Sachsenhausen
concentration camp as they moved to invest Berlin. The camp was in
Oranienburg, and the fall of that former royal borough brought it home to
Hitler that his days were numbered.

There were just 5,000 prisoners left in Sachsenhausen of a population
that had reached 50,000. The rest had been taken on ‘death marches’. 46 As
in most concentration camps, a number of Sachsenhausen s prisoners had
been out-housed, in this case in smaller camps in Lieberose and
Schwarzheide in the Mark Brandenburg. This had been the fate of many
of the Jews brought to Sachsenhausen from Slovakia and Auschwitz. As the
Russians closed in on the Mark, the prisoners were marched out of the
camps towards the coast. Many were beaten to death or shot on the way.
The camp administrators, including the notorious Obersturmbannfuhrer
Hoss, also fled from their HQ in Ravensbriick. They ran to the compara¬
tive safety of Flensburg to seek out their master Himmler. The latter
advised Hoss to save his skin by crossing into Denmark. Hoss received false
papers as Able Seaman Franz Lang, but was caught and hanged for all
that. 47

In the middle of May, the writer and journalist Margret Boveri finally
made it to her country cottage in Teupitz in the Spreewald. She and a Frau
Becker undertook a hair-raising journey on bicycles, dodging — successfully

WILD TIMES

and not so successfully — the Soviet troops who wanted to appropriate their
valuable vehicles. They found it sinister that the place names had been
crossed out and rewritten in Cyrillic script, which they took for a sign that
eastern Germany was to be incorporated into the Soviet Empire.

The place seemed to have died, even if most of the houses seemed undam¬
aged from the outside [in the square a few corpses in uniform were lying
around, stiff like giant puppets]; the house was completely wrecked behind
which we moor the boat on our trips into the little town, the next-door
property likewise. On Kohlgarten (our peninsula), I spoke to one man only.

He said, ‘My child is dead, my wife in the hospital.’ In my house I found the
usual picture of destruction: everything was shattered, smashed and plun¬
dered, and the three boats were gone. The clothes had all been taken, just
like the food, down to the last grain of salt; the last naturally snatched by our
dear compatriots. My archive portfolios were strewn about the place. The oil
paint for painting the house had been emptied out and everything was
stuck to it. In the flower beds cows and horses had grazed and for the first
time we found some proper manure. +s

The Schloss had taken the brunt of the destruction: the lords had fled,
presumed dead, and the Russians had turned the building into a hospital;
despite that they spent the night bawling and brawling and playing gramo¬
phone records. The two women made their way back to Berlin. The
normally resilient Frau Becker was reduced to tears by the sight of German
civilians being marched into captivity. Those who straggled or stumbled
were beaten with whips. 49 Ruth Friedrich and her doctor friend Frank
went on a journey into Brandenburg in pursuit of food. They stopped at
a country inn. Eventually a woman came out with a headscarf pulled
down over her brow: the usual device to conceal her age from the rapists.
Flere and there they could see some soiled straw, but nothing else. They
asked the peasant woman if she had food. She told them it had all been
stolen. ‘Russians or Germans?’ Frank asked. ‘Thieves,’ the woman replied
impassively. The pair ran into a trek on the road. These unfortunates were
aged between twelve and thirty. One of the children told her, ‘We are all
going to die . . . Why not? Death is not the worst thing.’ 50

Liberation from the West

The Rhineland

The Rhineland was the first part of Germany to be liberated from the west,
and the first city was Aachen. The place of Charlemagne’s coronation had

CHAOS

been pitilessly pummelled by Anglo-American bombers so that there was
little left of it. Of the 15,000 homes in the city only a fifth were vaguely
intact. The American-installed administration estimated that they could
make the damaged properties habitable within a year, but to rebuild the city
would take twenty. 51

One of the first Americans into Aachen was Saul Padover, who was then
working for the Psychological Warfare Division. He followed behind the
troops, interviewing Germans to compile a dossier on their affiliation to
Nazism. His memoirs of the campaign provide a variety of snapshots, but
many of them are coloured by the anti-German propaganda he was cook¬
ing up as he went. In Jiilich he found two Flemings who had been living
the life of Riley in an air-raid shelter. They believed themselves the only
civilians left in the bombed-out town, and had a huge stock of champagne
and cognac, tins of food, eggs and chicken. In their ‘drowsy moments’ they
read travel books or romantic novels. 52

Padover was keen to record the moral loucheness of the German sur¬
vivors. Wiesbaden ‘was packed with German civilians, many of whom
were gaily attired. There were lots of pretty girls, and they smiled at us
broadly and invitingly.’* The Americans had entered the spa town on 28
March 1945 and the defenders had prudently tossed their weapons into
whatever expanse of water they could find. The Americans fenced off the
centre of town with barbed wire and moved into the Hotel Rose.
Denazification began on 10 April, when all Pgs and SA men were asked to
report to the American authorities. 53

Missie Vassiltchikov managed to get herself attached as a nurse to a
convoy of children from Bremen who were returning home. They had
been sent to Austria after the destruction of the city by bombing. For the
Russian-born Missie it was the first time she had seen her country of
adoption for a year. The train passed though Munich in the middle of the
night. All that remained of the station was ‘a huge iron skeleton’. She
caught a glimpse of Nuremberg, Bamberg and Wurzburg. They looked
much the same - ruins. She jumped train at Fulda and eventually made it
to Hanau, Frankfurt and Geisenheim by hitching lifts from engine drivers.
She was trying to reach the Metternichs at their bombed-out home among
the vines of Schloss Johannisberg in the Rheingau. Her sister Tatiana was

* The sexual attraction of conquerors to the women of the defeated should have appealed
to the ‘psychologist’. The straitlaced Helmuth James von Moltke had been shocked when
he visited Paris in August 1940 to find the women ‘positively queuing up to get a German
soldier into bed’ (Letters to Freya, London 1991, 97).

WILD TIMES

married to Prince Paul von Metternich. ‘It took me quite some time to
reach the ruined castle. It, too, was a sorry sight. Only one of the gate¬
houses still stands.’ 54

The Americans had moved into the Mumm property next door. They
were behaving badly — throwing furniture and china out of the windows
and giving away the clothes from the wardrobes to the ‘Frauleins’. Brat von
Mumm had just been released from a POW camp near Rheims. He had
been arrested at the champagne house that he had taken over in 1940 in the
wake of the German advance. It had been seized by the French state in
1914 as a ‘bien d’ennemi’. He was living elsewhere as his house had been
declared off-limits. There was not much to eat, but the wine was a con¬
solation. The majordomo served Missie exquisite things, muttering each
separate vintage in her ear. 55

Elena Skijabina was another Russian, if not quite as grand as Missie, a
relative of the composer. She had been pressed into labour service by the
Nazis in Russia and put to work in a factory in Bendorf on the outskirts of
Koblenz where she seems to have been well treated. When the Americans
arrived in April the Russian girls all feared the worst. Drunken GIs ham¬
mered on the door. When that failed they tried to lure the women away
from their friends and plundered their meagre possessions. As with the
Russians on the other side of the country, alcohol tended to amplify the
dangers: ‘The Americans found large supplies of Rhine wine which had
been kept for years in the cellars . . . they were dreadfully drunk.’ Later
Elena confirmed that the Americans had ‘emptied all the cellars’ as they
passed through. 56

Before they left, a friendly American doctor brought the Russian
women ‘cotton-like’ bread that proved — to their evident surprise — ‘com¬
pletely edible’. 57 Koblenz and its environs were picked over by a number of
nations before the area settled down to being French. First the Russians
came up from the local camp and tried to throttle the factory manager.
They then smashed anything they could find. In June the area was occu¬
pied by Belgian troops. On 2 July worried Germans declared ‘with horror
that we would be occupied by the French’. 58

Carl Zuckmayer was a Rhinelander by birth. He had fled Germany after
the Nazis burned his books and became an American citizen in 1939. The
sight of the burned-out shell* of his parents’ house in the cathedral city of
Mainz brought home the scale of the destruction and made him aware of
the enormity of the task ahead. Germany was still full of contrasts: ‘From

* Mainz was bombed early on in the war, and grass was already growing on the ruins.

CHAOS

the vision of the destroyed Badger-house* to the completely unchanged
farmhouse parlour in the Weismtihl, from Heidelberg to the German
Theatre, from the town park in Schoneberg to the Riemergasse, from the
first night in Zurich to the morning celebrations in Vienna, from the out¬
rages and obscenities with our “Intelligence” and so forth — how can a
heart bear it.’ 59 Zuckmayer listened to the German soul among the ruins
that winter. He went to Frankfurt-am-Main and gazed at the remains of
the Romerberg, the medieval core of the city. A woman caught him
gaping in astonishment at the extent of the damage and said in a dialect he
had known from childhood: ‘Yes, that’s what we wanted all right, and that’s
what we got.’ 60

Karl-Heinz Bohrer was ten when the Americans arrived in the village
where he was living in his grandparents’ holiday home near Remagen
Bridge. The Wehnnacht had famously failed to blow up the bridge, and
the Americans were able to form an impressive bridgehead on the eastern
bank of the Rhine before the structure collapsed. Young German boys
had been taught that the Americans were cowards, who fought wars by
dropping bombs. Karl-Heinz had seen the disembowelled body of a black
airman in the snow. The Americans took him prisoner briefly, because he
was wearing a steel helmet to take some milk over a dangerous meadow.
The village was searched for arms. Meanwhile the old men and young
boys were lined up against a wall with their hands up. Karl-Heinz did not
find the experience frightening, but rather exhilarating. The first indica¬
tion that peace had come was the silence. The war had gone elsewhere,
across the Rhine, towards the centre of Germany. Where he was, it was
over.

Bavaria

The East Prussian writer Ernst Wiechert had been waiting for this
moment. He had suffered at the hands of the Nazis, who had thrown him
into Buchenwald. Now he could muster a brief moment of happiness:
‘The patient had been stronger than the strong.’ American forces passed
through the village. One moment they were there, the next they were
gone, but ‘with the dust behind their vehicles an era sank; one of evil,
darkness and bloody violence and we didn’t have to think of the past, but
of what was to come . . .’ 6l Wiechert was refreshed by the thought that the
guillotine would cease its bloody business, that the gallows would rot, that

* Zuckmayer called his parents ‘the Badgers’.

WILD TIMES

death would cease its nightly visits to women and children in cellars. His
wish was not to be granted at once.

Once Wiechert explained to the Americans who he was, they treated
him with kindness. The CO sent up a couple of men to keep watch over
his house and one of them killed a deer for him - ‘so that you don’t go
hungry’, he said. It was a world of humanity Germans had forgotten over
the past dozen years. But not all the Allies proved such perfect gentle
knights. When the French came four days later they surprised the house
while the guards were off duty, locked the Wiecherts in the kitchen and
stole everything of value: silver, jewellery, watches and typewriters. 62

Wiechert was a celebrity and now he received visits from the literary
world in uniform: ‘Captain’ Auden, one of Thomas Mann’s sons-in-law,
Mann’s son Golo, and Pastor Niemoller (another German who had suffered
under the Nazis) and his wife, together with numerous journalists.
Wiechert was not happy with his own people, however. His outspoken
attitude to Nazism and the privileged treatment accorded to him by the
Americans aroused the envy of the locals. His writings were deplored and
the man who had preferred inner emigration, and criticised those who had
actually left, was forced to flee to Switzerland, at a time when other exiles
were drifting home.

The Jew Victor Klemperer had made a miraculous escape from the
ashes of Dresden. He had kept his head down in a small Bavarian village
until the war ended. On 11 May he also expressed his shock at the German
attitude to the very recent past.

The people are absolutely without history, in every respect. In the evening
a young woman came . . . young, not unintelligent. She seemed to be ori¬
ginally from Munich, and had been by bicycle to Munich for a day ... I
asked the woman if she had heard anything of Hitler and the other big
names of the NSDAP: no, she had not had time to ask about that, in other
words: this did not interest her any more. The Third Reich is already as
good as forgotten, everyone had been opposed to it, had ‘always’ been
opposed . 63

Klemperer naturally saw things from his perspective. Like many other
Germans, the Munich woman had evidently lost faith in Nazism some
time before; with the terror apparatus halted, she could now breathe freely.

Jewish prisoners in an outside dependency of Dachau could not believe
their eyes when they saw American tanks flying white flags. They won¬
dered if they were imagining things. They thought at first it might be a
German trick. Once they had conquered their apprehensions they went

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down to the streets where the Americans were waiting. They tidied up
their prison uniforms on the way. 64

The French reached Jettingen on 26 April. It was a pretty old town filled
with half-timbered houses. Ursula von Kardorff, a former journalist from
an old Prussian noble family who had been in contact with many members
of the opposition to Hitler, had taken refuge there since fleeing Berlin in
February. Her decision to head for Jettingen had been influenced by the
fact that it was the home town of Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg, the man
who had placed the bomb at the Wolfsschanze in the July Plot against
Hitler of 1944. Suddenly the main street was filled with men in khaki uni¬
forms. The next day they politely requisitioned her room at the Hotel
Adler and evicted her friends from the Schloss, although the officer in
charge said that the valuables could be locked up in the dining room, and
they could take the key away with them.

The gloves were off the next day when ‘two nasty characters’ came
round to her digs in pursuit of eggs and ‘snaps’. Ursula von Kardorff was
firm with them. ‘Wir die besten Soldaten of the world!’ they shouted at
her. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she replied. Later she had a furious argument with
a Gaullist officer, who offered her coffee for all that. He told her that the
Berliners would suffer the same fate as the Russians under German occu¬
pation: ‘I became angry. I told him that the fate of the Germans would not
be so easy to deal with. I had not risked life and limb for twelve years fight¬
ing against the Nazis in order to be held to account for all the crimes
committed by the SS. Both my brothers fought in Russia and one died
there, and they would never have behaved as the French are doing now
at the Klingenburg [Schloss in Jettingen], 5 The French captain was
impressed. The plunder ceased, and Ursula von Kardorff was able to
indulge a few long-cherished ambitions, such as throwing a collection of
Party badges into the River Mindel. “We are now free from the Nazis,
there is no Gestapo now to summons, disturb, arrest, torture or persecute
us. We cannot praise our good fortune enough for this; but even now we
are not free, we must still obey and comply with the curfew, and follow the
orders as they are posted.’ 66

The other occupying army (the Americans had arrived in the wake of
the French) presented few problems at first. Ursula von Kardorff was con¬
cealing the identity of her friend Wilhelm Biirklin, who was a colonel of
the General Staff. In the eyes of the Western Allies a General Staff officer
was an even more pungent commodity than a high-ranking Nazi. Biirklin
had learned to keep his mouth shut when the Americans were present.
They brought the women chocolate and spoke to them about politics in

WILD TIMES

‘fabulously bad English’. Her friend Erna Bahr washed a uniform jacket for
one of them, and received packets of tea and soap. Later they also received
buckets filled with slops from the mess. These were granted to a stylish
Berlin woman of their acquaintance, to feed her wolfhound. What the dog
didn’t want was given to them. Once they had volunteered to wash and
iron the Americans’ uniform blouses the women received unheard-of
treats: real coffee, meat, salad and chocolate pudding, such as they had not
eaten for years. 67

Unlike some, Ursula von Kardorff lived those first moments of occupa¬
tion in relative calm. She had found peace after the struggle and its
aftermath that had seen so many of her friends strung up in Plotzensee
Prison after the July Bomb Plot. The Allies were courteous towards this
member of the old governing class, at least, and she had wine as a con¬
solation in her ‘small, warm island in the chaos’. 68

Not everyone had been so lucky. When the women visited a
Stauffenberg castle that had apparently been set on fire, the tenant took
them over the plundered, windowless property and stopped to show them
the bed where his daughter had been raped by American soldiers and the
bullet holes in the wall. ‘In a way I am not so unhappy about the plunder¬
ing, it shows that soldiers will always be soldiers and that the others are
therefore also not necessarily better than us.’ 69

One of Ursula von Kardorff’s friends was Grafin Alexandrine von
UxkiiH-Gyllenbrand, who was the sister of the Stauffenberg brothers’
mother. The children of Claus and Berthold had been taken away by the
SS after their fathers’ arrest, and given new names and identities. A French
POW had tipped off Ursula and Barchen that the children were in Bad
Sachsa. The two women set off on bicycles to obtain a pass for Grafin von
Uxkiill so that she could go and fetch the children. They rode as far as
Glinzburg to see the local American commander, Captain Herrell. While
they waited, two Americans made indecent propositions. Herrell had not
heard of Graf von Stauffenberg, but examined the women to find out if
they were ‘good Germans’. They passed muster, and the Stauffenberg chil¬
dren were recovered in June.

On the night of i May, Ursula von Kardorff and her friends listened to
their wireless set in secret. Hitler was dead.

This is the moment that I have so hotly awaited these last years, and that for
which I have prayed and implored. And now? As the National Anthem was
played just now I stiffened as I have not done for years. Is that just senti¬
mentality? Jurgen’s death, the deportation of the Jews, our defiled land . . .
Fritzi Schulenburg, Halem, Hassell, Leber, Haeften, Stauffenberg . . .

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Mutius, Mandelsloh, Wolf Schulenburg, Raschke, three Schweinitz broth¬
ers, three Lehndorff brothers, Veltheim — all of them who have lost their lives
either here or out there, but for Germany?*

But we will manage. We will work, be happy with our lot, modest — and
trust in God. Maybe one day there will be a new, admirable Germany again.
The death of so many by the bullet or the rope — was it in vain? Or was
there a deeper purpose? 70

The Americans liberated the terrible camp at Flossenbiirg on 26 April.
Just 2,000 half-starved prisoners remained to welcome them. Another
15,000 had been marched off, many of them shot along the way. 71 It was
not until the 29th that the Americans reached Dachau. They were appalled
by what they saw. Dachau was the original concentration camp — a vast
place and the centre of 240 subsidiaries, some of which had operated for
barely a month, others for years.

Buchenwald had been built around Goethe’s oak, Dachau had been set
up in a former artists’ colony complete with Schloss, the Bavarian
Barbizon — famous for the misty light that rose off the marshy plain.
Dachau boasted the full range of prisoners, apart from the Jews, who had
been sent east when ‘facilities’ were created for them there. At the end of
the war they had returned and made up around a third of the inmates J In
essence there were two camps at Dachau: a work camp with comparatively
healthy prisoners, and another, more sinister division, a Tittle Camp’,
housing the bedraggled transfers.

Dachau was liberated by the 157th Infantry Regiment of the 45th US
Division, as well as by the 222nd of the 42nd, which converged on the

* Jurgen von KardorfF had died in action in Russia in 1943; Graf Fritz-Dietlof von der
Schulenburg together with Nikolaus von Halem, Ulrich von Hassell, Julius Leber, Werner
von Haeften, and Claus von Stauffenberg had all died as a result of their roles in 20 July 1944;
Bernhard von Mutius, Dietrich von Mandelsloh, Graf Wolf Werner von der Schulenburg,
Martin Raschke, Josias and Werner von Veltheim had all died as soldiers in the war. The
Lehndorffs and the Schweinitzes were noble Prussian families. For Graf Heinrich von
Lehndorff-Steinort see below p. 164; the others, presumably, died in Hitlers war.
j* The inmates were recognisable by the coloured triangles they wore. The original con¬
centration camp prisoners were political: they wore red; anti-social groups such as drunks,
beggars and the ‘work-shy’ wore black; the professional criminal, green; Jehovah’s Witnesses,
lilac; returned emigrants, blue; homosexuals, pink. It should be recalled that homosexual¬
ity was also illegal in Britain until the 1960s. The Jews wore two triangles stitched together
to make a Star of David, one yellow and one with the colour of the crime that had given
the pretext to incarcerate them. See Bruno Heilig, Men Crucified, London 1941, 73—4. The
lion’s share at Dachau was made up of 44,401 ‘reds’. There were 22,100 Jews, 1,066 ‘blacks’,
759 ‘greens’, 126 Wehrmacht men, no ‘pinks’ including one who had been readmitted after
discharge, 85 ‘lilacs’ and 16 ‘blues’.

WILD TIMES

town to take a bridge that would bring them to their prize — Munich.
They wanted to rescue the Prominenten, who had been housed in the
‘Special Building’, but they were already gone.* Various plans had been
aired to kill the prisoners by bombing the camp or by poisoning their soup,
but fortunately these had proved unfeasible in the chaos of the time. 72
There was a little resistance from the SS units guarding the place, but that
was soon wound up, then the Americans found freight trains filled with as
many as 2,000 corpses from the ‘Little Camp’. There were the usual scenes
of revulsion and physical sickness brought on by the sight and stench of the
living and the dead. The Americans described the neat stacks of bodies as
looking ‘like cordwood’.

It was said that an SS man briefly turned his submachine gun on the
prisoners who left their huts to watch the arrival of the Americans. This led
to fury on the part of the conquerors, who shot anyone they found defend¬
ing the complex and flushed the guards out of the watchtowers and killed

them. They were left with an initial bag of 122 prisoners. One American
shot the lot with his machine gun. Just as he was killing the last three who
were standing — two with their hands up, the other defiant with his arms
crossed^ — an officer arrived and kicked him in the head. ‘The violence of
Dachau had a way of implicating all, even the liberators.’ 73

At first the prisoners indulged in an innocent game of making the
guards dance to their tune. They shouted ‘Miitzen ab! ’ And the SS men
had to doff their caps. Then the Americans aided and abetted the pris¬
oners in their revenge. One soldier lent an inmate a bayonet to behead a
guard. A kapo was found lying naked with cuts all over his body and a
gunshot wound to his head. They had rubbed salt into his wounds.
Another was beaten to death with spades. Other guards were shot in the
legs to immobilise them. Later reports drew a veil over what happened

then, although it is clear that some of the Germans were ripped limb
from limb. It seems that around forty more guards and kapos died this
way. 74

Once enough blood had been let to satisfy occupants and occupiers, the
Americans were shown over the camp. The crematoria and the gas cham¬
ber were an important part of the tour, although it was never clear whether
the latter had been put to use. The normal method of execution was the
Genicksschuss — a shot in the back of the head - and there was a special part
of the camp where the killing took place. 75 To gas the Dachauer, the usual

* See below pp. 82—4.
j* There is a photograph of this.

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method was to transfer them to Hartheim, across the border in Austria.
Over 3,000 died in this way. 76

The prisoners were moved into the SS barracks, but they continued to
die in droves. In May alone, 2,266 perished. 77 Later the Americans inter¬
cepted a party of 3,000 prisoners from Straubing Prison that had been sent
to Dachau but had been forced to turn back when the warders learned that
Dachau had been liberated. 78

In the bombed-out towns and cities a humanitarian disaster loomed. In
Bayreuth, for example, the water was contaminated, the sewers fractured.
Typhus and diphtheria swept through the town. There was no medicine
left to deal with the epidemic. 79

Holstein and Hanover

Germany capitulated unconditionally on 8 May 1945, but it wasn’t quite
true that the Allies were the only power in the land. For the time being
Hitlers chosen successor Admiral Donitz still dressed himself with the
trappings of authority in Flensburg on the Schleswig-Holstein coast, albeit
surrounded by British troops under Field Marshal Montgomery. The
arrangement of his ministerial portfolios had been bequeathed by Hitler in
his political testament, but Donitz tore up the list and appointed his own
government of technocrats. Speer was one of only two survivors from the
old elite, the others had been at most junior ministers: Stuckart, Backe,
Seldte and Dorpmuller. Donitz sought to divorce his regime from the
Party. He chose Hitlers finance minister Graf Lutz Schwerin von Krosigk
to be his foreign minister and chancellor, a man with strong anti-Bolshevik
views like his master. Donitz liked the idea of a return to the political
thinking of 1933—4 when President von Hindenburg was still alive. He
would have an active chancellor, and in himself a president who applied the
brakes. 80 Schwerin von Krosigk refused to be chancellor, however — he
didn’t like the name. He became ‘leading minister’ instead. 81

Everywhere Germans were laying down their arms. In Italy Kesselring
surrendered on the 2 May. Donitz was in Plon at the time, with the British
army rapidly advancing on him. His government decided to move to the
Baltic coast and Flensburg. Donitz and Schwerin von Krosigk spurned the
worst Nazis when they came looking for work. Alfred Rosenberg, the
Party ideologist, was one of these. He consoled himself with drink, and was
seen about Donitz s HQ, as drunk as a lord. 82 Himmler visited on the 3rd,
4th and 6th, but Donitz considered him to be a political liability, and he
was shown the road. 83 When Admiral von Friedeburg returned from

WILD TIMES

Rheims he brought back some of the pictures of German atrocities that
had circulated during the signing of the peace. 84

Churchill tolerated the Donitz government for a while until the Soviets
began to clamour for its elimination. He was of the view that the Germans
could look after themselves to some degree. A campaign organised by
Stalin appeared in Pravda. The Russians demanded an end to the ‘militarist-
fascist clique’ around Donitz. 85 Radio Moscow even suggested that Donitz
was trying to blackmail the West. That was on 18 May, when the Allies
started to get tough with the admiral. Two days later Pravda, Izvestia and
Krasnaya Zvezda demanded that Donitz be deposed at once. Donitz had
been pleading with the West to launch a joint crusade against the
Bolsheviks, and the Soviets naturally got wind of it. They also knew that
the British had simply placed German arms at a distance from the captured
men. Churchill must have been considering his options. If the Russians did
not convince him, Eisenhower did, when he ordered Donitz s arrest. 86 The
Americans were not prepared to work with the relics of Hitler’s regime,
and there was JCS 1067 — the Joint Chiefs of Staff document laying down
that no Nazis were allowed to continue in office. 87

The Times postulated that the new German government consisted of
nothing more than Donitz, Schwerin von Krosigk and a microphone, and
that the microphone had been the most important member. 88 Admiral
Donitz was not popular with Germans — Margret Boveri called him an
Obertrottel, a supreme idiot — but many could see some good in Schwerin
von Krosigk, who had entered the Cabinet under Franz von Papen in 1932
and seemed for the time and circumstances not only moderate but intelli¬
gent. This cut no ice with SHAEF, the Supreme Headquarters Allied
Expeditionary Force. If Donitz and the Flensburg government had any role
it was only to disarm, disband and feed the Wehrmacht.

The Donitz government must have been feeling over-confident of
British love when on 11 May Field Marshal Busch gave a broadcast on
Radio Flensburg to announce that he was in charge in Schleswig-Holstein,
‘with the agreement of the British’. 89 The Allies had been using various
high-ranking military officials to help them shut down the Wehrmacht and
its organs, 90 but JCS 1067 made it clear that no Nazis were to remain in
authority. Busch’s broadcast aroused fury among the other Allies who sus¬
pected that Montgomery had recognised the Donitz government. 91

Not just the other Allies - the Daily Mail was outraged by this ‘mys¬
terious station’. Busch had let the cat out of the bag and Donitz had sealed
his fate. 92 Donitz was giving himself airs and graces as well. British soldiers
had to salute high-ranking German officers, which angered many. 93 The

CHAOS

next day Churchill sent his ‘Iron Curtain’ telegram to Truman. He was
worried, he told the American president, about what would happen when
America transferred its forces to the Pacific and he was left alone with the
French to face the Russians. The inference is clear: he might need German
help. 94 There were a million German soldiers chewing the cud in
Schleswig-Holstein; their weapons had been taken from them, but they
were not far away.

Sir Bernard Montgomery had just returned from the Russian lines at
Wismar. He gave orders that German weapons should not be destroyed, ‘in
case they might be needed for any reason’. 95 It may be that the sight of the
Russians at close quarters had confirmed his worst fears. The Russians, on
the other hand, were not pleased to learn that ‘the Flensburg criminals’,
Hitler’s designated successor and his ministers, were walking freely about
the streets of the little port. 96 On 13 May the Allied Control Commission
came to collect the chief of the German Armed Forces High Command
(the OKW) Field Marshal Keitel and bear him off to captivity. Donitz
thought it prudent to remove a bust of Hitler from his office. He also
ordered the end of the Hitler salute, but he drew the line at the Allied
request that the Germans should cease wearing their medals. Admiral von
Friedeburg was apprehensive about what the Allies would do, but Donitz
assured him that they would observe the Geneva Convention. 97

On 17 May a Soviet officer joined the Allied team on the SHAEF pas¬
senger ship Patria and Donitz was invited to appear before them in
Flensburg harbour. He was received with pomp and had an interview
with Bob Murphy, political adviser to SHAEF. Donitz turned to his
favourite theme: the Bolshevisation of Europe, and how the Germans
were needed to prevent it. The Allies were also worried, but they didn’t
like it coming from him, any more than they had from Himmler. Albert
Speer had decided to jump ship. He resigned from Donitz’s government
and retired to his family in the doubtless palatial surroundings of Schloss
Gliicksburg. 98

A day later - on the 18th — the Allies returned the visit to the seat of the
Donitz regime in the barracks at Miirwik. Their delegation was led by the
British brigadier E. J. Foord and the American major-general Lowell
Rooks. On 22 May Donitz was summoned aboard the Patria for 9.45 the
following morning. The Allied generals had received their instructions
from Eisenhower. If Donitz felt he had any claim to immunity as a head of
state, he was rapidly disillusioned. He was told to consider himself a pris¬
oner. General Lucius Clay of the Allied Control Commission had said that
Donitz was on the list of war criminals and would be treated as a POW.

WILD TIMES

The Allies sent the Germans away: ‘Pack your bags!’ they said." Clay
made it clear that all war criminals would pay for their acts with ‘their lives,
freedom, sweat and blood’. 100

Three battalions of British troops commanded by Brigadier Churcher
surrounded the government’s HQ in the Miirwik Barracks and finally
stormed it brandishing sten guns and grenades. The leading minister’s cab¬
inet meeting had just begun. ‘Hiinde hoch! Ausziehen!’ (Hands up! Strip!)
The participants and their secretaries were put against a wall and strip-
searched: Donitz, Jodi and the rest. Schwerin von Krosigk allegedly found
a Tommy tugging at his trousers saying, ‘Bitte - please?’, although it is hard
to believe that they had any problem communicating with the former
Rhodes Scholar. 101

The leading minister tells the story differently: ‘as nothing went unex¬
amined, the blood went to my head. General von Trotha, who was
standing next to me, noticed that I was on the point of turning round and
lashing out with my fist. He whispered to me: “Keep smiling.’” Schwerin
von Krosigk felt Trotha had saved his life. 102 Some sources claim that the
men were forced to strip naked, as well as the female secretaries the British
had found in the other offices. Others suggest that their examination was
confined to the areas below the waist. 103

A British sergeant equipped with a surgical glove searched anuses and
other orifices of ministers, officials and secretaries. Speer had been fetched
from Schloss Glticksburg and was subjected to the same indignity. He
thought it was because Himmler had slipped though the British net (by
biting on a cyanide capsule) and they were determined it would not
happen again, but Himmler died only later that day. 104 The idea of humili¬
ating the prisoners could not have been far from their minds either.
Admiral von Friedeburg poisoned himself in a lavatory to escape the defile¬
ment, as did Donitz s secretary. Squaddies plundered Friedeburg’s body. 105

The only other person to be let off was the deputy chief of operations
at the OKW, whose boots were so tight the Tommies couldn’t get them
off. The captain commanding the operation was so angry he ripped the
German officer’s Ritterkreuz from his neck and stamped on it. 106 Watches
and rings vanished into the British soldiers’ pockets. Donitz’s baggage was
rifled and his bejewelled admiral’s baton stolen. Schwerin von Krosigk
also complained of theft. For three-quarters of an hour photographs and
newsreel films were taken of the Germans while they stood in the court¬
yard with Tommies peering at them over the sights of their weapons. The
pictures appeared in the British papers showing some of the men and
women en deshabille. The headlines suggested that the Herrenvolk had been

CHAOS

caught napping. The truth was they had not been given time to cover up
after their examinations. 107 When Churchill heard the story, he was scan¬
dalised and wrote Montgomery a letter of protest. The Flensburg
government had lasted three weeks. 108

Charlotte von der Schulenburg knew the war was over when she saw a
British jeep in Testorf, where she had taken refuge after her flight from
Mecklenburg. East Holstein was to be turned into a huge detention camp
for captured German soldiers. Chaos reigned until September when the post
was restored and she was able to make contact with others in her situation.
She learned that her mother and sister were still alive in the Russian Zone
and hiked to Bremen to see Mausi Lehndorff, a member of the noble East
Prussian clan, whose husband had been another of Hitler’s victims follow¬
ing the abortive plot. The worry was how she and her children were to
survive. She had lost everything in the east. Then she received a letter from
one of her late husband’s cousins. Jonny von der Schulenburg lived in the
original family Schloss at Hehlen on the Weser. He invited her to stay and
to bring her children with her. She was not altogether convinced: she had
heard that the Hehlener Schulenburgs ‘hatten nicht alle Tassen im Schrank’
(an idiomatic translation would be ‘A sandwich short of a picnic’.) She went
to inspect the house with Marion Grafin Donhoff — later editor of Die Zeit.

They set off for the ruins of Hamburg. A bus took them to Hanover,
where they were able to pick up a train to Hameln. The bridges over the
Weser were all down and there were no trains leaving in that direction.
Then she saw two men, one in a military leather coat, waiting on a low
cart on rubber wheels drawn by a chestnut. This was Mathias von der
Schulenburg and his cousin, the owner of Schloss Hehlen, Jonny. The
house was filled with former German POWs that Jonny had invited back
to live with him and drink up the contents of the cellar.

The house resembled so many that had been occupied by soldiers. In
places the electric wiring had been pulled out; windows had been smashed;
the books in the library lay scattered on the floor; there were empty bot¬
tles everywhere. Jonny gave Charlotte a lift back to Hanover the next day
in a Fiat Topolino without doors in which he sat on a wobbly milking-
stool. The servants often had to push it to get it started. Sometimes it
needed a horse. That autumn she moved into Hehlen with her six children
and the few belongings she had been able to take from the family Schloss
at Trebbow in Mecklenburg. Their journey to the Schloss was an adven¬
ture in itself.

In Hamburg they were arrested for breaking the curfew and spent some

WILD TIMES

days in a barracks with more POWs, who shared their meagre rations
with the children. The latter were delighted with English white bread and
ersatz honey. Antediluvian figures speaking an unintelligible language
jumped on the bus seeking a lift to Bremen and were finally shaken off near
Bergen-Belsen. In Celle they found quarters in a Red Cross camp that had
been set up in a gym. In the ruins of Hanover they met Jonny — an appar¬
ition in a white linen suit.

Charlotte and her children were allotted a tower and a kitchen in the
servants’ quarters, so that they could maintain their independence from the
wilder shores of the castle. A gemstone proved enough to procure a stove
on the black market. With Jonnys permission, they collected furniture
from other parts of the house. When Charlotte had finished, her tower
room was so lovely that visitors compared it to the Marschallin’s bedroom
in Act One of Der Rosenkamlier.

In 1946 the entire population of an evacuated Upper Silesian village was
accommodated in a back wing of the Schloss. The men were found work
in the village and oven pipes protruded from the windows as they installed
kitchens in their rooms. The bridge and courtyard buzzed with women
and children dressed in traditional headscarves. That Christmas Charlotte
organised a nativity play at the Schloss in which her children and the
Silesians performed the roles. It was the villages first taste of post-war
ecumenicahsm, as the Silesians were all Catholics and the Hanoverians were
Lutheran to a man. British soldiers came to hunt at the Schloss and paid for
their pleasure in cigarettes and alcohol — much to Jonny s delight. The par¬
ties at the castle were as mad as ever as he drove his motorbike round the
knights’ hall and hurled bottles at the portraits of his ancestors. 109

In the chaos that was Germany in 1945, it was hard to know if the
writer Ernst Jiinger had survived. Many of his friends and admirers had
perished on Hitler’s gibbets. Others had fallen victim to bombs and bul¬
lets — both soldiers and civilians. Jiinger, however, was at home in his
house in Kirchhorst near Celle in Hanover. He watched the American
advance in a detached way. It literally passed him by. The black soldiers in
the American army were the subject of much gossip. A little boy of nine
told Jiinger, ‘I am frightened of him.’ He meant a black GI. The Negroes
were accused of perpetrating several rapes, in one instance of a fourteen-
year-old girl in the village of Altwarmbuch. 110

Americans and Poles searched Jiinger’s house, but he had wisely hidden
incriminating objects such as his weapons (in the pond) and his hunting
rifle (buried) and stashed away his collection of burgundy where he
thought no one would find it: ‘It would be a criminal offence to let nectar

CHAOS

like this fall into the hands of the Kentucky men.’ 111 Sadly for him, some
GIs were billeted on him. The usual bands of DPs were stealing and mur¬
dering — coming for spirits, meat and bicycles - but Jiinger had the
Americans on the ground floor to protect him: ‘downstairs is Wallensteins
Camp:* loudspeakers announce news of victory, patrols bring in prisoners
whom they have tracked down in the bog’. Jiinger read his way slowly
through the Bible, turning to the poet Rtickert and others when he
wanted a break. He was relieved to hear that the Americans were not
allowed to talk to the Germans.

All around him order was breaking down, and the Allies were doing
little to restore it while they advanced on Berlin. On 28 April the owner
of the neighbouring estate was killed by DPs looking for benzene. He had
been tortured first. Another local had been tied to a car and dragged along
the road. The villages were full of drunken American blacks with women
on their arms, looking for beds. DPs would visit the men-less houses and
‘feast like the suitors of Penelope’. Mussolini’s and Hitler’s deaths prompted
more classical references: ‘We are living now in the time of the fall of
Galba, Otho and Vitellius, repeating events in every detail . . ,’ 112

Some things could not be found in the lives of the later Augustan
emperors. On 4 May he had two prisoners from nearby Belsen to break¬
fast, and was fascinated by their yellow faces and parchment-like skin. One
of them had had one of the best positions in the camp: he was the kitchen-
kapo, and if there were any food, he had first pick. On 6 May Jiinger was
visited by six Jews from the camp. The youngest was a boy of eleven. He
watched the child devour a picture with his eyes. It was not just food they
craved. And then the child was in raptures when he saw the Jiingers’ cat. 113

The novelist Jiinger was calmly jotting down the stories brought to
him by refugees. A woman from the east told him how prosperous
Prussians had committed suicide en masse. During their trek they would
look in at the windows of large houses and see a ‘party of corpses sitting
around a table covered with a cloth’. 114 Two American journalists came to
see him; the day before they had visited a ‘concentration camp on the out¬
skirts of Weimar’. Jiinger had not heard of Buchenwald. They told him
about the crematorium and the sign that read Wash your hands. In this
room cleanliness is a duty.’ The job of the journalists was to ‘put together
a sort of spiritual stock-taking in our field of rubble’. He had seen no jour¬
nalists for six years: it was the ‘first thread in a new weave’. When they left
they gave him some of their food.

* An allusion to Schiller’s play of that name.

WILD TIMES

The war ended for the Kaiser’s only daughter, Victoria Louise, on
Hitlers Birthday, 20 April. She was living with her husband the Duke of
Brunswick in Blanckenburg in the Harz Mountains when the Americans
arrived. Soon after the Americans had paid a visit to the Schloss, the
British came by. They were interested in some cases that had been lodged
in the cellar. After the British left, Americans arrived to carry off the cases.
They were unconcerned when they were told that the British had already
claimed them. One of the Americans who came for them had been
brought up in Potsdam, where he had played golf with the crown prince,
William, and had been present at the arrest of her Nazi brother, Auwi, in
Frankfurt.

Victoria Louise was much struck by the arrival of blacks — ‘niggers’, as
she called them. They were, in her report, friendly and cheerful. To the
princess’s staff they shouted, ‘We are slaves, now you are slaves!’ The
Americans behaved well in general, but the British who relieved them left
a bad impression. The colonel ordered the duke and duchess to report to
him; failed to get up when they entered the room; and threatened to
shoot them because they had concealed weapons. Victoria Louise observed
that it was not a propos to shoot a prince of the Hanoverian royal house,
which was Britain’s own! The guns in question had been locked up by the
Americans in a wing of the house and the keys removed to the command
post. 115

Princess Victoria Louise opened the door one day to find her brother
Oscar standing before her. He had left his house in Potsdam on foot and
walked to safety. He was ‘at the end of his strength. He had battled through
the advancing American forces, through fields and thicket, from hiding
place to hiding place, in constant fear of being taken prisoner’. Prince
Oscar had begun the war as a regimental commander, and there had even
been a suggestion that he should receive a division, until Hitler slapped it
down. He wanted no heroes among the princes. Oscar’s eldest son had
been the first of the Hohenzollerns to die in action, in 1939. When there
was a massive demonstration of royalist sympathy in Potsdam at the burial
of the crown prince’s eldest son, William, the following year, Hitler
resolved to dismiss the princes from the armed forces. 116

The British had their first experience of a Nazi death camp near Celle
as they advanced towards the Elbe in the second week of April 1945. The
nth Armoured Division was pushing towards its military objectives when
its forward troops were met by a Mercedes staff car containing two
Wehrmacht colonels. They had come to offer them Bergen-Belsen camp,
where, they said, the inmates were dying of typhus. It was three days

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before the British entered the camp, and they were naturally horrified by
what they saw. 117

Belsen was not an extermination camp like Auschwitz, Treblinka or
Majdanek. It had been set up as recently as 1943 to house ‘exchange Jews’.
These were Jews with non-German passports who Himmler believed
could be bartered for money or for German nationals in Allied captivity.
The idea of selling Jews to the West went back to the abortive Evian
Conference of 1938. Conditions at Belsen had been as good as any until the
end of the war, when the SS began driving the inmates of the camps west,
in order to prevent them falling into the hands of the advancing Red
Army. As much as possible, evidence of the Final Solution was to be
destroyed. Hitler was furious with Himmler when he learned on 13 or 14
April that the Americans had liberated Buchenwald and found 20,000
prisoners the SS had failed to evacuate or shoot. Hitler had barked into the
telephone at the SS chief: ‘. . . make sure that your people don’t become
sentimental!’ 118

Large numbers of former prisoners from eastern camps were shipped
into Belsen. They were not only Jews. Estimates for the number ofjews in
Belsen at the time of the liberation vary, but at most they were not much
more than half. There were prisoners from all over Europe as well as the
usual concentration camp inmates: political prisoners, ‘anti-social elements’
and criminals — including homosexuals — who had contravened Article 175
of the Prussian Legal Code. Not only were the food and medical supplies
inadequate to deal with them, but they brought typhus. Lack of food had
resulted in outbreaks of cannibalism. By the time the British had made up
their minds to go in, the plague had reached epidemic proportions. Over
the next few weeks a quarter of the 60,000 inhabitants would die. Most of
these were deemed to have been beyond medical care, but some died
because the British were at a loss to know how to treat and feed them. 119
In hindsight it is easy to accuse them of negligence, but they still had mili¬
tary objectives. There was a war to be won, and a pressing need to prevent
the Red Army from absorbing the whole of Germany. Himmler knew that
many Britons wanted to push on and fight the Russians, and while he
bartered Jews with the Swedish count Bernadotte, he hoped that he him¬
self might be retained in the fight against Bolshevism.

The living skeletons of Belsen wrought their revenge on the hated
kapos, throwing some 150 of them out of first-floor windows under the
eyes of the British soldiers. 120

WILD TIMES

Baden and Wiirttemberg

The Badenese university town of Heidelberg was liberated by the
Americans on 30 March. The philosopher Karl Jaspers recorded the event
in his diary. He had been put out to grass because he refused to divorce his
Jewish wife Gertrud — or Trudlein — and they had lived through recent
years in mortal fear that she would be deported to the east.

No electricity, no water, no gas. We are trying to equip ourselves. A spirit
stove will do for a short time. Water can be fetched from the spring at the
Klingentor. The young people are in the best mood. It is magnificent fun for
them to live like Indians . . .

. . . this morning the Americans arrived on the Neuenheimerlandstrasse,
they found all the bridges destroyed and stood in front of them with tanks.
They discovered the boathouse near the new bridge, took the paddleboats
and paddled across the river, landing at the grammar school where they are
stationed. They must have arrived upstream by the Neckar.

Frau von Jaffe came to congratulate us that at last our Trudlein is free: a
moment without words. It is a miracle that we are still alive . 121

Jaspers clearly enjoyed the spectacle of the limp German resistance. It
was not long before the Americans sought him out as a representative of
the ‘other Germany’ and gave him responsibility for the university. Jaspers
had none of the misgivings about the liberators that Germans felt else¬
where; when he delivered the principal speech on the reopening of parts
of the university on 15 August, he dwelt on the experience of liberation.
Most likely his attitude towards the Americans was one of heartfelt grati¬
tude. 122

The end of the war found the future mayor of Berlin and president of
the Federal Republic Richard von Weizsacker at a family chicken farm
near Lindau on Lake Constance crammed full of family members, almost
exclusively women. There was his sister, a refugee from East Prussia, whose
husband had been missing since 1944 and was never to return; his aunt
Olympia from Breslau, with her two daughters — both sons had been
killed and her husband interned like his brother, the physicist Carl
Friedrich. In the summer another pair joined them — his sister’s parents-in-
law, the eighty-year-old Siegfried Eulenburg (who had commanded the
First Foot in the Great War) and his wife. They had come from their
estates in East Prussia in an old landau driven by three horses. 123

The town of Pforzheim had suffered horribly in the bombing. With
great interest Alfred Doblin, novelist and psychiatrist, watched people
climbing on top of heaps of rubble: ‘What was their business there? Did

CHAOS

they want to dig something out? They carried flowers in their hands. On
the heap they set up crosses and signs. These were graves. They put down
the flowers, knelt and said their prayers.’ 124 Another writer, Ernst Jtinger,
witnessed the scenes in Pforzheim that year. He too saw the walls of
rubble, the white crosses and the flowers for those who had been buried
alive. 125

Baden was also an objective of French forces, and it was in the Black
Forest that their behaviour got out of hand. The French were officially sup¬
posed to follow behind the Americans, but, with the backing of de Gaulle,
the commander de Lattre de Tassigny disobeyed orders. De Gaulle had told
him, ‘You must cross the Rhine even if the Americans are not agree¬
able . . . Karlsruhe and Stuttgart await you.’ 126 The French II Army Corps
had taken Speyer before advancing to Karlsruhe. On 12 April they reached
Baden-Baden before entering the Black Forest and heading for
Freudenstadt. A further French army was to join them there after liberat¬
ing Strasbourg. Whether the French commander was in some way
influenced by the name of the town is not easy to say now, but
Freudenstadt (it means ‘town of joy’), the so-called ‘pearl of the Black
Forest’, was subjected to three days of killing, plunder, arson and rape.

There had been reports of a band of Werewolves under a Hans
Zoberlein, who had recently killed German civilians he considered had lost
some of their National Socialist zeal. The town, however, was undefended,
and filled with hospitals, but it may be that the French were unaware of
that; or it may be that the very absence of soldiers gave them the idea of
getting their revenge for coundess barbaric acts committed by the Germans
during their occupation of France. 127 One of the French officers is sup¬
posed to have said, ‘We are the avengers, the SS of the French Army.’ 128

On 17 April they shelled the small town, completely destroying the
centre. The units that entered Freudenstadt were made up of French sol¬
diers from the 5th Armoured Division, Foreign Legionaries and Moroccan
and Algerian troops from the 2nd Moroccan and the 3rd Algerian Infantry
Divisions. It is reported that local Polish workers joined in. From the first
the French made it clear that the people were going to be properly pun¬
ished. There would be three days of plunder. A sergeant said that the
troops would be released from discipline, and a quartermaster added, ‘In
the next few nights no woman will go untouched.’ 129

The patients were robbed of their watches in the hospitals, and a
Frenchman they found there was gunned down in his bed. The surviving
houses were systematically destroyed with benzene: 649 were burned down
in this way. It was now open season for any women aged between sixteen

WILD TIMES

and eighty. It is generally said that the Moroccans behaved worst. 130
Anyone who tried to stand in the way was simply shot. One of the victims
was a stout lady lorry-driver called Sofie Hengher who tried to stop the
soldiers assaulting her children. After the French passed on, some 600
women reported to the local hospital. Ten per cent of those examined were
pregnant. Seventy people had been killed. Freudenstadt was certainly the
most prominent example of a breakdown of discipline in the French army,
but there were others, and the French were not above threatening
Konigsfeld and the university town of Tubingen with similar treatment.

French soldiers’ behaviour in Stuttgart, where perhaps 3,000 women
and eight men were raped, was thought to have added to American fury at
their overstepping their lines.* A further 500 women were raped in
Vaihingen, where the French army found a large number of dead and
dying in a satellite concentration camp. The villagers in nearby Neuenbiirg
were cleared out to make way for the sick and the French garrison. 131 In all
these instances the Moroccans were blamed. 132 The American general
Devers wrote to complain to de Lattre. Freudenstadt had not added to the
reputation of the French army. 133 Later the Germans wanted to know who
had allowed the troops to run riot in this way. The commander in
Freudenstadt appeared to have been a swarthy southern type called Major
Deleuze; but a Captain de l’Estrange was also mentioned, as well as a
Major Chapigneulles and his adjutant, Poncet from Lorraine, who was a
famous beater. Tortures were carried out by one Guyot and an alleged
former Jesuit called Pinson. The British press blamed the atrocities on a
Major de Castries, a scion of one of France’s oldest families.

The French dug in at Stuttgart and refused to budge. On 13 May they
held a provocative Joan of Arc Festival. 134 It was just a leap and a bound to
the old university town of Tiibingen. The 5th Tank Division arrived on 19
April. Tubingen had been saved by declaring itself a hospital town, but
there was rape and pillage before the French calmed down. One of the first
men to beard the French in the town hall was the professor of law, Carlo
Schmid. His mother was a Catalan from near Perpignan and his perfect
French must have made the invaders feel at home. He probably spoke less
about his time in the administration of Lille during the war. On the 23rd
he was denounced as a Werewolf, however, and locked up in a lavatory for
two days. The French searched his house and found the texts of his
Baudelaire translations. 135

* R. F. Keeling (Gruesome Harvest, Chicago 1947, 56—7) gives the official figure as 1,198, but
the Germans thought it more like 5,000.

CHAOS

On 9 November that year a Frenchman came home to Germany. It was
the anniversary of both the Beer-Hall Putsch and Reichskristallnacht.
Alfred Doblin had left Germany on 3 March 1933 and, after a harrowing
escape, spent the war years in Hollywood. His ship docked in Le Havre.
From the deck he watched ‘a body of men, all dressed the same, disap¬
pearing into the belly of the vessel; they reappeared dragging casks and
cases . . . They were Germans, prisoners of war. That is how I saw them
again.’ 136

He had become a French citizen after leaving Germany One of his
sons had died fighting in the Vosges. After he had seen his friends he
crossed the Rhine at Strasbourg. In the waters of the river ‘there lay a
felled elephant: the shattered railway bridge’. He was now in Germany
‘You see the fields, well laid out in an orderly land. They had cleaned up
the meadows and swept the paths. The much lauded German woods: the
trees were bare, a few still wearing the colourful autumn foliage . . . But
now it became more clear: heaps of rubble, holes, grenade or bomb
craters, the remaining backs of houses, then fruit trees again, bare with
supports. A saw mill intact, but the houses next to it in ruins.’ His train
passed though the Black Forest: ‘Then I see your misery and I see that you
have not yet learned from what you have learned. It isn’t easy. I’d like to
help.’ 137

Upper Austria

As the Americans crossed into Austria they were able to paint a bigger pic¬
ture of the Nazi death camps. In the last months of the war Jews had also
been shipped from Auschwitz and Gross Rosen to Mauthausen in Upper
Austria. A large number of them died or were put to death on the way. Up
to now Mauthausen had been a criminal and political camp,* and many
Austrian opponents of Nazism had been sent there from Dachau. Apart
from Stutthof, which the Russians allowed to fester until 9 May,
Mauthausen was the last big camp to be liberated, when the Americans
went in on 5 May. I3fi The most appalling sight in Mauthausen was the
deadly quarry, where many prisoners lost their lives. It was called the
‘Wiener Graben’ after the thoroughfare in Vienna, because from here the
stone was excavated for the streets of the capital. 139

* In 1939 there were nearly 3,000 prisoners. Just under a thousand of these were ‘greens’ or
criminals, and 688 were political prisoners. There were 930 ‘anti-socials’, 143 Jehovah’s
Witnesses and 51 homosexuals. (Robert H. Abzug, Inside the Vicious Heart, New York and
Oxford 1985, 106.)

WILD TIMES

The Americans found a fully formed committee waiting for them
composed of Hans von Becker of the Fatherland Front, the communists
Ludwig Soswinski and Heinz Duermayer — who had fought in Spain and
was later chief of police in Vienna — Hans Marsalek of the Vienna Czechs,
Bruno Schmitz, the son of the mayor of Vienna, and the former minister
of justice Baron Hammerstein-Equord. Once again the concentration
camp had formed a cadre for later Austrian political life. 140

The Americans also liberated the camp at Gusen on the 5th. Gusen was
part of the wider Mauthausen complex, which had around fifty satellites
including Ebensee. There were between eight and ten thousand inmates
including some 1,200 Jews housed in a separate compound. Roughly 3,000
of the prisoners were made up of the ‘work-shy’. The Americans found
evidence that inmates had been killed with gas: Russian typhus victims had
been sealed up in their huts and gas canisters had been thrown in. 141

The third big shock for American forces was Hartheim, which had
been used principally for the extermination of the mentally ill. Some of the
victims were housed in Niedernhart near Linz, but they were taken to
Hartheim to be killed. The Americans compiled a report on the activities
in Hartheim, and found evidence that the mental patients often fought
their warders after their arrival in the Schloss, and that the Nazis suffered
minor injuries at their hands. 142

Tyrol

One dramatic discovery made by the Allies was the location of a clutch of
Prominenten at Schloss Itter near Kitzbiihel. This had been the prison for
the French presidents Reynaud and Daladier and the generals Weygand and
Gamelin, as well as trade-union leader Leon Jouhaux, Michel Clemenceau,
the son of the statesman, the tennis star Jean Borotra, the politician and
resistant Colonel de La Rocque and Madame Alfred Cailliau, sister of
Charles de Gaulle. The Luftwaffe picket guarding the French had run
away at the approach of the Americans, but it was feared that some local SS
would harm the prisoners or seek to use them as bargaining tools to ensure
a safe passage out of Austria. On 5 May the Schloss was indeed attacked by
an SS unit that blew up an American tank. The prisoners helped defend
the building. An Austrian, Major Gangl, was killed in the attack. 143

One of the most bizarre liberations that April took place in the South
Tyrol, Italian since 1919, but whose population was still largely German
speaking. On 24 April a lorry — one of several — left Dachau concentration
camp for Munich. It contained the former Abwehr officer and Munich

CHAOS

lawyer Josef‘Ochsensepp’* Muller. Muller looked at the others squashed
on to the benches in the back of the lorry: there were Hungarians like the
former prime minister Miklos Kallay, his interior minister Peter Baron
von Schell, the Dutch minister Dr van Dyck, the Greek field marshal
Pagagos and his staff officer, the German generals Haider and Thomas, the
former president of the Reichsbank Schacht, Stalins nephew Kokorin,
General Pjotr Privalov and eight RAF officers.

The lorries went south after Munich, crossing the old Austrian border
near Kufstein before proceeding to Innsbruck and the concentration camp
at Rosenheim. There the prisoners were taken out. In all, the lorries con¬
tained 136 people from seventeen nations. There were fourteen Britons,
including a captain bearing the name of Churchill, although no relation,
and a ‘Wadim Greenewich’ from the Passport Control Office — that is,
MI6 - as well as his colleagues from the 1939 Venlo Incident, Stevens and
Payne Best; there were five Russians; the French included the former
prime minister Leon Blum and his wife, Gabriel Piquet, Bishop of
Clermont-Ferrand, Prince Xavier of Bourbon-Parma and the writer
Joseph Joos; the Poles included a Zamoyski; there were four Czechs; the
Greeks sported their field marshal and no fewer than four major-generals;
there was the Dutch minister and six Danes, a Norwegian, a Swede, a
Swiss, a Latvian and four Italians, including the partisan Garibaldi - a
descendant of the Risorgimento leader — and his chief of staff Ferrero; in
the Hungarian team there was not only the prime minister but Admiral
Horthy s son and his secretary; the Austrians numbered the former chan¬
cellor Schuschnigg and his wife and the pre-Anschluss mayor of Vienna,
Schmitz, as well as the writer Konrad Praxmarer. The biggest delegation
was naturally from Germany: State Secretary Piinder, Prince Philip of
Hesse, Haider and his wife, the former military governor of Belgium
General von Falkenhausen, the pastor Martin Niemoller, Prince Frederick
Leopold of Prussia, Fabian von Schlabrendorffand Fritz Thyssen. Another
group was made up of Sippen, that is relatives of the 20 July plotters: vari¬
ous Goerdelers, Stauffenbergs, Hammersteins, Liittwitzes, Plettenbergs and
one Gisevius (Hans Bernd had managed to escape), together with relatives
of Jakob Kaiser, Isa Vermehren and Fey Pirzio-Biroli, the daughter of the
hanged former ambassador to Rome, Ulrich von Hassell. 144

The men and women were hostages of the SS: so-called Prominenten to
be killed or bartered for freedom as the Allies tightened their grip on

* Literally ‘Oxen Joe’. As a boy, Muller had looked after the cows on his parents’ Bavarian
farm.

WILD TIMES

Germany. At Rosenheim the Austrian Prcnninenten in particular were hor¬
rified to see Austrian SS guards mercilessly beating members of the
Tyrolean freedom movement. The Austrians had themselves been in cap¬
tivity since March 1938. For Schuschnigg it was ‘difficult to keep ones
self-control’, but there was the pleasure of seeing Schmitz again and meet¬
ing the two ‘saints’ on the transport: Niemoller and Piquet. 145

After three days at Rosenheim the prisoners were reloaded on to buses
and driven to the Brenner Pass. Their guards amounted to thirty more or
less docile SS men under the command of Obersturmfuhrer Stiller, and
another twenty or so heavily armed ‘sinister types’ led by Untersturm-
fiihrer Bader. Bader had instructions to liquidate the prisoners. Muller had
been singled out as one to die. The SS showed Schuschnigg the list, with
the names of himself and his wife neatly inscribed. 146 The buses entered
Italian territory in driving rain, passing Bruneck and the Pustertal before
coming to a halt before the village of Niederdorf. Stiller allowed some of
the prisoners to go into the village with him where Muller soon ran into
a Wehnnacht general in full uniform. This led the prisoners to hope that
the SS might respond to a superior officer, so they went back to fetch
Falkenhausen: he was another general, after all. Meanwhile Muller was
shouting, ‘Schuschnigg is behind me! Schuschnigg is behind me!’, know¬
ing that the South Tyroleans had an affection for the former Austrian
leader. 147

The general had few soldiers with him, but a ‘prisoner of honour’
Colonel Bogislaw von Bonin was able to put through a call to General
Heinrich von Vietinghoffin Bolzano. When he informed the commander
of the presence of the Prominenten, Vietinghoff despatched troops to pro¬
tect them. They were not due before dawn, however, and Bader’s men
were still eager for blood. The prisoners went to a hotel on the market
square where Frau Heiss, manager of the Hotel Elefant in Brixen, regaled
them with Kaiserschmann* - a great treat after the food they had eaten in
their various concentration camps. Bader, however, had not given up:
‘Miiller raus!’ (Come out, Miiller!). Colonel von Bonin, however, had
been allowed to go into captivity with his pistol. He drew it and aimed it
at the SS man: ‘Ich zahle bis drei, bei zwei sind sie eine Leiche!’ (I’ll count
to three. On two you are a dead man). Bader’s men took the hint. 148

Meanwhile Sante Garibaldi had established contact with the local par¬
tisans. They wanted to hang Stiller from a window in the hotel, but Muller

* An atomised sweet omelette filled with raisins and a favourite of the Emperor Franz
Joseph — hence the name.

CHAOS

talked them out of it. Instead Muller was made a member of the Tridentine
Division of the partisans. This involved eating a piece of raw eagle’s flesh,
decidedly less palatable than the Kaiserschmarrn. On Sunday 30 April the
prisoners were finally rescued by the Wehnnacht under the command of a
Captain von Alvensleben. On 4 May they were liberated by the Americans,
who took them to HQ in Caserta, and thence to Capri.

Disputed Areas

Thuringia

Yalta had decreed it otherwise, but Thuringia was liberated by the
Americans. It was here and not in Bavaria that the Americans came face to
face with the horrors of the Third Reich. It was not quite the first time
they had been exposed to evidence of Nazi barbarity. During their advance
through Alsace they had come across Natzwiller camp, but the Nazis had
evacuated the buildings. When the French liberated it in November 1944,
it had been empty for two months. American reporters had also flown to
Lublin in Poland in September 1944 where they were told of a warehouse
containing 800,000 shoes, but it did not prepare them for what they were
going to see in sleepy Thuringia. 149 They first came across its Jewish vic¬
tims in Nordhausen-Dora, working on the V2 rocket. The camp was one
of many dependencies of Buchenwald. Among the liberators was an
American Jew who was repelled by the sight of his fellows. ‘These people
are something else,’ he wrote. ‘I am not one of them.’ 150 Some 12,000
people were living in tunnels, with forty to seventy-five dying daily. The
Americans found 3,000 corpses as well as 700 people who were clinging to
life by a thread. Many of the Americans were sick. In the town Germans
were evicted from their flats* to make room for clinics, and 2,000 locals
were rounded up to bury the dead in long trenches. 151

But Nordhausen was child’s play compared to Ohrdruf. The village
near Gotha was the location of another branch of the more famous
Buchenwald camp. It was a labour camp, containing around 10,000 slaves.
One of the liberators was the Jewish American war reporter Mayer Levin.
The first indication that they had chanced on a camp was when they spot¬
ted some skeletal figures coming towards them along the road. They said
they were Poles, and told the soldiers to enter the town and rescue the

* There can have been very little left of the town. The Allies had bombed it relentlessly.
Only a thin strip of old houses remained when the author visited it in the early 1990s.

WILD TIMES

camp inmates. They spoke of deep caves and death squads. The Americans
feared an attack and waited until daylight. When they finally reached the
camp they found heaps of bodies in striped uniforms. Each one had a hole
in its skull: a sign that they had been executed by a single Genicksschuss. In
another place was a stash of naked prisoners, their corpses flat and yellow
like planks. 152

Many hardened soldiers vomited at the scenes that confronted them,
above all on encountering the nauseous smell. The survivors could hardly
be classed as humans. They behaved like animals — showing no inkling of
goodness or friendship, they merely grabbed at the food they were offered,
ran off with it into the corners and lashed out at anyone who approached
them. The Nazis had robbed them of their most precious possession, dig¬
nity. 153 On 12 April the camp was visited by the big three of American
army command: Eisenhower, Patton and Bradley. The latter recalled, ‘The
smell of death overwhelmed us before we passed through the stockade.’
They were shown the corpses of 3,200 naked, emaciated men. Patton was
physically sick. 154 It was a bad omen: it was the day President Roosevelt
died. Patton turned to an aide: ‘Still have trouble hating them?’ Eisenhower
ordered all units not in the front line to visit Ohrdruf: ‘We are told the US
soldier doesn’t know what he’s fighting for. Now, at least, he will know
who he is fighting against ! 155

Ohrdruf established a policy and a gloves-off treatment for all Germans.
The most famous city in the hilly region, Weimar, was taken on the 12th.
Buchenwald was so close to Weimar that its ancient trees had been the
object of Goethe’s daily walks, and yet the Weimarer insisted that they had
not known what was happening behind the barbed wire. To some extent
this was true, but prisoners were used for menial tasks around the town and
had been involved in the often mortal work building the new Adolf-
Hitler-Platz between the old town and the railway station. Even if they had
been unclear about the extent of the brutality, they knew full well that the
prisoners were abused and maltreated. Buchenwald had its soft days in the
early 1940s. The Jews were sent east, and the inmates — particularly the
‘greens’ or criminals — tended to look after themselves. The commandant,
Koch, was proved to be corrupt, and was executed by the Nazis. His wife
was the infamous Ilse: ‘the Beast of Buchenwald’. Saul Padover was shown
the famous collection, supposedly assembled for Ilse Koch, of lampshades
and trophies made from human skin and organs. He also saw a card index
in which the causes of death were dutifully recorded: the victims all died
of two ailments, heart or pneumonia. 156

The place was used as a distribution centre for labour, and a lot of

CHAOS

French and Belgian prisoners were brought in. The saddest cases were con¬
fined to the Little Camp where they were left to die in their own filth. In
the last ten months the camp had filled up with 20,000 or so inmates from
the east, bringing numbers up to 45,000—50,000. Another 20,000 were
transferred to other camps - Flossenbiirg, Theresienstadt and Dachau.
Meanwhile communist prisoners conspired to take over the camp. Shortly
before the Americans arrived the order had been given to kill the prison¬
ers, but Himmler had failed to carry them out. He was still hoping to use
the Jews to save his own skin. Hitler appears to have ordered Himmler to
kill all the prisoners in Germany There was plenty of evidence around to
show that some of his men took these instructions seriously. 157

The prisoners Himmler had failed to kill broke out of the camp after the
liberation and began to plunder Weimar. Hitler was furious when he heard
this, and renewed the orders to kill the concentration camp inmates. It was
the beginning of the end of Hitlers relations with his SS chief. 158 Some of
the leaders of this small-scale revolt were roving around when the
Americans arrived on 11 April. Padover treated the German communists
with disdain. They weren’t real prisoners, being the aristocracy of the
camp, and they looked down on the others. ‘Being Germans, they had
been made trusties by the SS.’ Some prisoners had pinned guards to the
ground with stakes. About eighty of the guards were massacred, ‘sometimes
with the aid and encouragement of the Americans’. It was reported that
the Americans looked on while a prisoner beat a German soldier to death
with a four-foot log. 159

The Allies were slow to liberate the Little Camp. The stench was
appalling. They found a number of children there when they finally braved
it, including a three-year-old boy. The inmates died in large numbers even
after the Americans began to feed them. The liberators learned that they
could function only by repressing all emotion. On 16 April George Patton
decided that the inhabitants of Weimar should know what had been hap¬
pening on the Ettersberg. His men made a thousand or so inhabitants line
up in the Paulinenstrasse and marched them off to the camp a kilometre
away. Among them were some of the Nazi bigwigs of the city. American
cameramen were on hand to film their reactions. The Americans wanted
the full propaganda effect, and news of the site-inspection spread as far as
Vienna. 160 On the way to the camp there was much amused talk, particu¬
larly from the women and girls dressed for the occasion in their last finery.
They showed no sign of knowing what to expect.

Their cheerful mood vanished when they saw the heaps of bodies cov¬
ered with quick-lime. Women began to weep and faint. The men covered

WILD TIMES

their faces and turned their heads away. Many of them huddled together for
comfort. One of the inmates who had been spared Hitler’s order to murder
the last inhabitants of the camp was Imre Kertesz, the Hungarian writer,
then aged fifteen. He remembered the scene: the Americans had given him
some chewing gum, which he belaboured with his jaw while he gazed
lazily from the typhus isolation huts to the mass graves in the distance.
Suddenly he was aware of the:

society of ladies and gentlemen. Coats were flapping in the wind. There
were flamboyant ladies’ hats and dark suits. Behind the society were a few
American uniforms. They reached the mass-grave and fell silent, assembling
slowly around the ditch. The gentlemen’s hats came off one after another.
Handkerchiefs were pulled out. There were one, two minutes of mute still¬
ness, then life came back to the stunned group portrait. The heads turned to
the American officers. Arms lifted and spread out at shoulder height, then
fell again to the upper thigh before coming up again. The heads shook in
denial . . . they knew nothing about it. No one knew anything about it. IlSl

That the Weimarer knew nothing was the message delivered in
Superintendent Kuda’s homily in church that Sunday, the church where
the enlightened philosopher Herder once officiated, and where Goethe
and Schiller had once been parishioners. ‘In Buchenwald events have come
to light about which we knew absolutely nothing before now ... so we
must confess to God that we played no part whatsoever in this atrocity.’ 162
On i May the Americans appointed Fritz Behr, a Buchenwald man, as
mayor.

Saxony

As the Americans advanced they found more and more evidence of lawless
bands of DPs who were terrorising the countryside in the absence of Nazi
law. In Brunswick there were more alluring women waiting to tempt
Padover up to their lairs. ‘I live all by myself, would you like to come up
and see me?’ 163 Lower Saxony was, like Mecklenburg, originally taken by
the Western Allies. It was the Americans who crossed the Harz Mountains
and seized the ruins of Halberstadt and Magdeburg, which the Anglo-
American air forces had only recently reduced to heaps of ashes.

Padover and his men had a comic exchange with a ten-year-old boy on
a scooter in Magdeburg. He explained that his mother was a schoolmistress
and that his father had fallen in Russia. Padover began his usual interrogation-
banter, but was possibly surprised by the reply to the question ‘What did
he think of the Fiihrer?’ The boy said: ‘Der Fiihrer kann mir den Arsch

CHAOS

lecken’ (He can lick my arse). They supposed he was unaware that it had
been the Anglo-Americans who had levelled his home town, but the boy
was ready for them: ‘The Fiihrer made you do it . . . and he is prolonging
the war when everybody knows it’s hopeless.’ The boy told them he
wanted to go to America and join the ‘American Luftwaffe’. Then he
would come back and bomb Germany. They asked him why he wanted to
bomb his fatherland: ‘Oh . . . the Russians will be here then.’ 164

In Gernrode the people had some weeks to study the Americans at close
range. When the Russians arrived in July they compared the Red Army to
the American Negroes. The latter were ‘less like victors and more like
fellow sufferers of aggression and humiliation’. 165 The American armies
discovered yet more evidence of Hitler’s last-minute orders to exterminate
concentration camp inmates and slave labourers. In Gardelegen they had
driven the men into a barn and set it alight. At Wolfsburg, where the big
Volkswagen factory was located, the prisoners had been able to free them¬
selves at the last moment, and had seized weapons from their guards. Some
had died from eating raw flour in desperation; others had raided a ver¬
mouth factory and made themselves hopelessly drunk. They were so light
and weak that when they tried to fire their weapons they fell over back¬
wards. They nonetheless managed to kill a number of German civilians,
including a mayor. 166

There had been another bloodbath in Thekla, a suburb of Leipzig. It
had been a labour camp staffed with political prisoners. When the SS left
they had shot and set fire to the men, some of whom had been burned
alive. There was the usual rage directed at the locals, but at Thekla the
Germans proved helpful and showed how appalled they were by the mas¬
sacre. As one of the Americans put it, ‘ninety-nine out of a hundred
Germans seem to eat and breathe as we do, seem to react to the same emo¬
tions, seem to be perfectly human and responsive.’ 167

Marianne Gunther was a schoolmistress in Penig near Chemnitz, close
to the Czech border, when the small town was taken by the Americans on
15 April. The US troops found a camp there too, filled with starving
Hungarian Jewesses. They immediately imposed a curfew. Polish and
Russian forced labourers ran wild in the streets. A month later Marianne
Gunther was able to continue her diary — her illusions had been shattered:
‘The monstrosities that we have heard about the concentration camps - I
didn’t want to believe it. The atrocities are far worse than I imagined. Who
could have planned such devilishness? . . . And now the ghastly stories from
Bohemia! When the war ended on 8 May the horrors began. A whole
nation [has been] driven homicidal mad, [they are] murdering innocent

WILD TIMES

women, murdering children. You can see the terror on the faces of the
refugees.’ 168

Before coming to Saxony she had been at the school in Gertlauken, an
exceptionally quiet village in East Prussia. She got out before the Russian
breakthrough. Gradually she learned the fate of her pupils and colleagues
as rare letters broke through. Fifteen-year-old Christel Beckmann had
made it across the frozen Nehrung to Danzig, and then walked through
Pomerania to Mecklenburg, where she and her family believed they had
found comparative safety. Then on 3 May, the Russians arrived. The girl
wrote: ‘For four weeks we found a place in the hayloft and stayed put. We
looked dreadful. Herta’s face was covered with scales. In the night we
heard the screaming and wailing of the village women. No man could pro¬
tect his wife, he would have been beaten half dead had he tried, and the
women were threatened with guns, they had to obey. We were almost
crazy . . .’ l69

Mecklenburg

Fritz-Dietlof von der Schulenburg’s sister Tisa was also liberated by the
Americans. She was living in the large manor of her first husband in
Mecklenburg together with 120 refugees. The German army wanted the
house too, to billet soldiers retreating from the Russian advance. For days
it was touch and go whether their liberators would be American or
Russian. Then six American jeeps appeared: ‘we were free’. 170 Free, but
not without worries. ‘Waves of liberated P.O.W. and Polish workers swept
over the countryside. They broke into farms and country houses, looted,
beat the proprietors and chased them away.’ 171 The Russian Zone began
only five miles away. ‘Sometimes they paid us short visits, robbing and
plundering on the way.’ 172 If the Poles and Russians were not enough, Tisa
was threatened by the Germans who remained on the estate, who found
her fraternising with former French forced labourers disgraceful. 173

Americans ran across the transit camp at Woebbelin near the grand-
ducal palace of Ludwigslust. Jews, Poles, Hungarians, Russians and western
Europeans had all ended up there after being moved out of their original
camps. No one had fed them and there were cases of cannibalism. The sol¬
diers can hardly have helped them much by giving them sweets, but the
thought was there. The American commander pursued the usual policy of
making the townsfolk responsible. All inhabitants of Ludwigslust over ten
had to come and view the dead. Photographs show trenches filled with
corpses stretching far and wide before the gates of the Schloss. 174

CHAOS

The Americans made way for the British. Very soon Tisa began to hear
rumours that the zones were to be adjusted, and that the Russians would
be taking over her part of Mecklenburg. Once she heard confirmation of
the story she hitched up a caravan - a former army signals wagon — and
prepared to flee. One day she had a visit from a Polish officer who arrived
brandishing roses. He wanted to thank her for the way she had treated
Poles and other prisoners. ‘But get out! The Russians are coming here.’ 175
She needed no more prompting. As soon as she had received the appro¬
priate papers, she drove her caravan to Liibeck in the British Zone.

Eastern Mecklenburg had been captured by the Russians. In Carwitz
and Feldberg, where the family of the writer Rudolf Ditzen (Hans Fallada)
were living, the Honomtioren — the town’s elite — committed suicide. The
chemist killed his children first. There were rapes, and Ditzen’s estranged
wife Suse was not exempted. 176 In September Ursula von Kardorff finally
traced her mother Ina, who had last been heard of on her estate at
Bohlendorf in Mecklenburg. She arrived in Berlin, with the usual tale to
tell. She and her husband, the painter Konrad von Kardorff, were old, and
were not prepared to run from the Russian advance. Konrad expired in
March, and was saved from the bitter experience of the rest of his family.
They had lived modestly, slaughtered few animals and drunk little from the
collection of wine in the cellar, and despised all those who cut and ran.

Even when Stettin fell, the Kardorffs stayed put. They hoped that it
would be the English that conquered them: ‘gentlemanly types, and sort of
cousins’. Long lines of refugees from East Prussia and Pomerania passed the
gates and, despite the implorings of relations, they would not budge. Then
one May morning the Cossacks appeared on the horizon: ‘they came en
masse, with tanks, on motorbikes, on foot, on horseback, even on sleighs
drawn by teams of four dogs’. They fell on the wine cellar, so prudently
preserved; then the destruction began, of furniture and pictures. Aunt
May and Uncle Willi committed suicide. As May put it to Ina, ‘The
Kardorffs have been at home here for five hundred years, what could we do
elsewhere? I think God will have mercy on us.’ Ursula’s uncle Egon,
former commander of a cavalry regiment, saw the bodies in the wood and
went to Ina: ‘Now I will have to leave you alone. I can’t bear a life like this,
and I have no fear of death.’ He went to his parents’ grave in the wood,
where Ursula’s father was also buried, and took poison.

Ursula’s mother was now on her own. She packed some things in a
rucksack and walked. In the local villages the same scene repeated itself:
drunken soldiers, dead nobles. A woman had shot fifteen members of her
family single-handed then drowned herself. Ina von Kardorff was robbed of

WILD TIMES

her watch and her last possessions. In a small town she was given lodging
by some artisans and a pastors wife until she was ordered to leave again.

She arrived in Giistrow, and found an attic room with a baker’s wife. She
painted pictures and gave drawing lessons, sewed and embroidered. She
even helped a painter do a portrait of Stalin. All around her were the sick
and dying, and disease. At night houses were searched and she heard the
screams of women, followed by shots. In the church on Sundays the pastor
announced long lists of the dead. She spoke to Ursula of Russians, too,
some of whom were good and generous, and gave things to the people.
Some even went to church. 177

Werewolves

Underground resistance to the occupation either petered out quickly or
failed to materialise at all. The Werewolves, who had been formed in
October 1944 to make life impossible for the Allies, committed the odd das¬
tardly deed such as the murder of the American-appointed mayor of Aachen,
Franz Oppenhoff, carried out by two men dressed as paratroopers in March
1945. After that, they fizzled out. The killing of Oppenhof remains contro¬
versial: Goebbels was naturally pleased, and described the men as partisans,
but his lack of prior knowledge would suggest that the mayor was not killed
by direct orders from Berlin. Others have stated that he was killed as a ren-
dement de compte of mere local significance. 178 It might instead have been the
work of an SS hit-squad rather than Werewolves. In Austria, Franz Fehrer
had been given the job of training Werewolves in Wiener Neustadt, but as
foreign troops crossed Austria’s borders the Gauleiter, Eigruber, gave orders
to discontinue the training and not to attack the American forces. The
American OSS came to the conclusion that there were no more active cells
of Werewolves in Austria in July 1945. 179 Carl Zuckmayer claimed that the
spirit of the Werewolves collapsed at the same time as Germany, and not a
trace remained. Certainly Lucius Clay could find no trace of anyone trying
to form a ‘Nazi underground’ in early July 1945. 180

There were, however, some very isolated incidents. In Glowitz in
Pomerania a forester called Drambusch, a fanatical Nazi, withdrew to the
forest where he built himself a bothy and planned to recruit others in his fight
against the conquerors. No one listened and later the Russians tracked him
down and shot him. He died of his wounds soon after in Stolp. 181 Goebbels
had made a loud noise about German resistance and there was still a jittery
feeling about Werewolves in May, which the Russians used as an excuse to

CHAOS

slaughter any young men they found. The Czechs were even less kind than
the Russians. Dr E. Siegel heard about the arrival in the Little Fortress of
Theresienstadt (now Terezin in the Czech Republic) of twenty-one men
branded Werewolves. They were stood against the wall. During the night the
doctor heard the usual screams and cracking of whips. Later he heard that
prisoners had cleared the gatehouse of blood, brains, teeth and hair and had
to scatter fresh sand. The men were officially listed as ‘dead on arrival’. 182

Accusing someone of being a Werewolf could seal his or her fate, and
there must have been many cases where individuals sought revenge in this
way. In Dalliendorf in Mecklenburg in the SBZ (the Soviet Zone, or
Sowjetische Besatzungszone), twenty-six-year-old Paul Schroder had
emerged from concentration camp wearing the green triangle of a crim¬
inal, but he quickly converted his record to make out that he was a former
member of the Communist Party. He told the authorities that a Frau
Westphal, the owner of an estate in the village, together with two men
called Holst and Redicke, were Werewolves. All three were shot on 2 July
1945. When it transpired that Schroder had been lying, he too was shot. 183

There was a little bravado at the beginning when battle-hardened sol¬
diers observed the punier members of the Allied armies and imagined
how easy it might be to overpower them. 184 In general, however, the
Allied soldiers were more a danger to themselves, as the writer James
Stern, an Englishman in an American uniform, discovered when he
chanced on an American cemetery on the way home from Bamberg to
Nuremberg in the summer of 1945. The war had been over for two
months, but the caretaker told him that bodies came in at an average of
thirteen a day. Stern was incredulous, but it seemed that drunken and
reckless driving was the chief cause, together with suicide. 185

Illustrious Bones

The arrival of the Allies, the Red Army in particular, had initiated a series
of bizarre journeys — bones were shifted from ancient vaults to escape
desecration. The first to go were of comparatively recent date: those of
Hindenburg and his wife, who had been laid to rest in the Tannenberg
Monument in 1934.* The retreating German army exhumed Hindenburg’s

* The monument had been built in 1927 to commemorate the German victory over the
Russians in 1914 — which had actually been achieved elsewhere. The battle was deemed to
have been won in Tannenberg to compensate for the resounding defeat inflicted on the
Teutonic Knights by the Poles in 1410.

WILD TIMES

corpse in January 1945 and blew up the monument before they left.
The corpses were conveyed across the Baltic on the cruiser Emden.

Once landed, the Hindenburgs’ remains were driven to Potsdam, and
stored in Luftwaffe HQ Kurfiirst in Wildpark near by. They joined the
royal refugees that had been extracted from the vault under the Garrison
Church: Frederick the Great and his austere father, Frederick William I,
who had been taken from the crypt by candlelight one night in February.
At the same time Wehrmacht officers had removed all the captured stan¬
dards. The Garrison Church was destroyed on 14 April 1945, and the
bodies escaped the bombing and subsequent firestorm as a result. 186

By the time of the Allied raid, the Hindenburgs, Frederick William and
Frederick had already left Potsdam.* On Sunday 11 March Hauptmann
Wilffied Seegebarth received orders to take them to a salt mine in Thuringia
along with the standards and other precious objects associated with Prussia’s
most famous son: musical instruments, tapestries and Frederick the Greats
library. In the late afternoon of the 13 th, the transport had reached
Bernterode in Thuringia. The coffins were lodged in the mine and con¬
cealed behind blocks of salt. All those involved were sworn to secrecy.

American soldiers reached the mine on 27 April and found the coffins.
When they left Thuringia in keeping with the decisions taken at Yalta and
in preparation for the meeting at Potsdam, they carried the dead bodies off
with them. They took them to the university city of Marburg where they
were initially housed in the cellar of the Schloss, before being brought to
the basement of the city archive.

On 21 August 1946 the royal bodies were secretly reburied in the St
Elisabeth’s Church in the city. A few days later they were joined by the
Hindenburgs. The pastor agreed to lodge the bodies under pressure from
the Americans and Oskar von Hindenburg, the president’s son, who had
commanded POW camps during the war and had been arraigned as a war
criminal. He was let off with a fine. 187 The royal bodies were finally walled
up in the church on the 21st, in the presence of Prince Louis Ferdinand of
Prussia — the crown prince’s eldest surviving son — and his wife, Princess
Kira.t Somewhere along the way an act of petty larceny had been carried

* Hindenburg and his wife for good; Frederick William and his son returned after much
controversy in 1991. The remains of the Garrison Church having been dynamited in the
1960s, Frederick William was reburied in the Friedenskirche. Frederick the Great finally
achieved his original wish and was interred on the terrace at Sanssouci, next to his dogs,
f The two kings were moved again in 1952, when they were sent to Burg Hohenzollern
near Hechingen in Wiirttemberg. It was here that Frederick the Great s coffin collapsed, and
a new one had to be made.

CHAOS

out against the person of Frederick the Great: his Order of the Black
Eagle had been pilfered, probably by an American soldier. You could still
see where it had been by the star-shaped patch of pure Prussian blue on his
otherwise faded uniform tunic.*

* Information from Prince Friedrich Wilhelm von Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, 14 May
1996. The prince told the author he had noticed the theft when the coffin was changed in
1952.

Berlin

When I rode through the area around the Tiergarten yesterday, I
thought to myself: one day they will talk of May 1945 in the same way
as they describe the Sack of Rome. Naturally, it was different to 1527,
because Berlin was already half finished, but had it not been for the
lunacy of the defence it would not have been so much of a battlefield.
It was only when we now see what the Russians are taking away that
we can see how fundamentally rich we were.

Margret Boveri, Tage des Uberlebens , Frankfurt/Main 1996, 140—1

T here was no shortage of bones in Berlin on 2 May 1945 when
General Weidling signed the ceasefire in that city. The Russians had
finished the business a day late: they had hoped to have defeated the
Germans by — if not on — May Day; 1 but still, the enemy was soundly
thrashed. Of the 150,000 homes in the centre of the city, only 18,000 were
undamaged, and 32,000 were completely destroyed. After Goebbels had
incited Berliners to fight to the last, his deputy Fritzsche told them to
stop: 134,000 soldiers laid down their arms. 2 Ruth Friedrich, who had
been a member of a low-key resistance group, thought the Third Reich
had vanished like a ghost. She exulted in the deaths of Hitler and
Goebbels: ‘Go to hell, Fiihrer and Reich Chancellor! Tempi passati! You
don’t interest us any more.’ 3

At least, Berliners might have imagined it was over, but they knew
what to expect. The only thing Goebbels had not mooted were the occa¬
sional acts of kindness. Charlottenburg, where the journalist Margret
Boveri lived, was an affluent area, and one of the last to surrender. She
became aware of the change in the situation when she ventured out on to
the streets to obtain her last quarter-pound of butter. She found Russians
already sniffing at the queues. Most of the Berliners had thought it prudent
to don white armbands. They openly complained of the Party for the first
time. When she got home she found that German soldiers had broken into

CHAOS

a neighbours cellar to steal civilian clothes. They intended to make a
break for the west: no one wanted to be caught by the Russians.*

The Russians picked over the city, exploring their new prize. The
impotent and ruinous Reichstag building became the symbol of Russian
victory. It had ceased to function as a democratic assembly soon after
Hitler came to power. Marshal Zhukov added his signature to the others
on the stonework of the interior . 4 t The journalist Konstantin Simonov
wandered around the Tiergarten. He looked in at the Zoo to see the dead
and emaciated animals lying beside the bodies of SS men. He went to the
huge Anti-Aircraft Tower that had fought to the last. Inside there had
been drunken orgies as the last act had been played out. There were the
bodies of suicides everywhere. In one cubicle he found a dead SS general,
his uniform tunic unbuttoned and a bottle of champagne between his
legs. He had committed suicide with his mistress, who lay beside him in a
pretty white blouse and skirt. He went on to the Reich Chancellery where
agents of Soviet Military Intelligence, or Smersh, had already identified the
bodies of Goebbels and his wife and children. Hider and Eva Braun eluded
them for the time being. 5 Schwerin von Krosigk spoke on the airwaves:
‘The world can only be pacified if the Bolshevik wave can be prevented
from overwhelming it.’ 6

The Russians were drunk, and not just with victory. ‘Woina kaputt!’
(The war’s over!) and ‘Gitler durak!’ (Hitler’s a blockhead!). The terror
began quietly in Margret Boveri’s Charlottenburg. ‘Ich Pistol!’ announced
the soldiers. ‘Du Papier!’ That meant that they had guns, and no amount
of paperwork was going to do you any good if you wanted to hang on to
property or virtue. ‘There is nothing in this city that isn’t theirs for the
taking,’ reported another woman who lived near Neukolln in the south. 7
At first the Russian soldiers came for watches. With a cry of‘Uhri! Uhri!’+
they snatched, sometimes discarding the previous acquisition, which had
simply stopped and needed to be rewound. This anonymous ‘Woman’ saw
many Red Army soldiers with whole rows of watches on their arms ‘which
they continuously kept winding, comparing and correcting — with child¬
ish, thievish pleasure’. s For the Russians, Berlin — even in its ruinous
state - was the picture of sophistication. They thought that the light was

* This had been going on for days, despite the draconian methods the Party used to deter
soldiers and civilians from leaving.

j* When the British architect Lord Foster adapted the building for use by the Bundestag, the
more decorous graffiti were retained; the obscenities, however, were scratched out. (Authors
visits to the Reichstag building, see Financial Times, 9 August 2002 and 2 September 2004.)
t From the German word Uhr, meaning watch.

BERLIN

captured in lightbulbs and unscrewed them to send them home. They
were fascinated by lavatories with flushes — and allegedly used them to wash
their potatoes in. Little things, like cigarette lighters, were not only new,
but utterly enchanting to them. 9

Some Berliners came out well from the experience. One
Charlottenburger was seized and stripped of his elegant leather jacket. The
Russian assailant tossed him his windcheater in return. His initial des¬
pondency at the exchange soon turned to jubilation: in the pockets of the
soldiers garment he found two watches and two pieces of jewellery, includ¬
ing a valuable ring. Ruth Friedrich watched a Mongol soldier, who had
befriended them, empty his pockets of wristwatches, lighters, golden rings
and silver necklaces, ‘like a child, calling them “trophies’”. 10 Margret
Boveri remarked that the men of the Red Army:

were like children in their glee over the new watches. One of them gazed
alternately at his wristwatch and then pulled a pocket watch out and held it
to his ear; we watchless ones, on the other hand, could only guess at the
time. They sang and danced and played mouth organ and harmonica . . . and
then they played ancient German records on a stolen German gramophone.
The scene in the courtyard was reminiscent of the description of the
Cossacks in Memories of an Old Man* . . .”

The Woman saw her liberators discard a collection of classical 78s, includ¬
ing Lohengrin and Beethovens Ninth, in favour of a record playing an
advertising jingle from C&A in the Spittalmarkt. 12

Nicolas Nabokov had a clear memory of Berlin at this time: ‘In front of
the Adlon [hotel] stand two trucks. The first one contains a mountain of
brass: tubas, trumpets and trombones covered by heavy Bokhara rugs. On
top of the rugs sit three sullen-looking Mongoloid soldiers. Their uniforms
are tattered. They are eating bread. The second truck stands half-cocked on
three wheels, blocking the traffic. It contains thousands of naked type¬
writers, and standing in their midst a cow moos . . ,’ 13

Gramophones were the Russians’ special delight. They played them
non-stop until they were broken and then they had to purloin another.
The Russian inability to master anything technical was ‘an inexhaustible
chapter’. 14 They stole all the bicycles they could find. The Woman saw
them take them up to a street near the Hasenheide where they practised
riding them. They sat ‘stiff on the saddles like chimpanzees in the zoo’. 15
They frequently fell off before they mastered the use of the two-wheeled
beast. Many bicycles were broken in the process and the wreckage strewn

* Almost certainly a reference to Tolstoy s The Cossacks.

CHAOS

over the street. Ruth Friedrich’s friends collected up the bits and assembled
new vehicles from them. 16 The Russians were in the main ‘as good-natured
as children. Some of them were sadists for all that.’ 17

Later they came looking for all stocks of food the Berliners had so care¬
fully amassed. They liberated any alcohol they could lay their hands on.
Drunk, they were even less easy to control. Then they amused themselves
by setting fire to buildings. Anything they did not steal they destroyed:
valuable antiques and musical instruments, elegant clothes and works of art.
Flats were requisitioned for the use of officers, the occupants chased away
with knives and pistols. But on that first day the Charlottenburger were
more frightened of what the Americans would do; it was thought they
were even more bent on revenge than the Russians. 18

Then the rape and slaughter began in earnest. Conservative estimates
place the number of Berlin women raped at 20,000. 19 It began in Neukolln
at 6 p.m. on 27 April. In the Woman’s cellar they went for the distiller’s
wife first, as she appeared to promise two pleasures; after that it was the
baker’s wife. The Woman thought the fattest were most in danger, because
fat, for a Russian, represented good health. The rapists left the scrawnier,
half-starved Berlin women until last. 20 Anxious parents hid their still vir¬
ginal daughters in lofts, in cupboards or under sofas. The Woman described
the dislocated experience of rape. The feeling was more of paralysis than
disgust. She felt an utter coldness, ‘the spine seems to be frozen, icy dizzi¬
ness encircles the back of the head . . . It’s like sinking through the floor.’
When her attacker left he tossed her a packet of cigarettes. 21

Margret Boveri first came face to face with it when she visited some
friends in plush Dahlem in the south-west of the city. They had been ‘lib¬
erated’ several days before. The worst cases involved very young children or
elderly ladies, and the victims were often killed afterwards. Sometimes
they took their own lives. In one instance soldiers raped the sisters who
worked as nurses in the military hospital, infecting them with syphilis at the
same time. 22 It was rumoured that the severity of the rapine was caused by
the fact the Russians had sent in units made up of criminals — such as the
Nazis had used at the time of the Warsaw Uprising - but this was later
revealed to have been untrue. Rapists were threatened with gruesome
punishments, but the prospect of satisfying their lust proved stronger than
the fear of chastisement.

That the Russians had received some sort of order was made clear to the
Woman, who spoke a rudimentary Russian and could understand some of
the exchanges between the conquerors. One officer reprimanded a soldier
with the words ‘ukas Stalina’ (Stalin’s orders), but the man answered back,

BERLIN

saying the Germans had raped his sister. While the Woman was raped
later by two Russians, a female soldier interrupted her comrades. When she
saw what they were doing she merely laughed. The Woman promptly
complained to another officer, but he dismissed her. They had not done
her any harm, and all his men were healthy, he said. 23

Ruth Friedrich was spared, largely because her lover, the conductor Leo
Borchard, spoke fluent Russian. She visited a friend who had been raped
by seven soldiers, ‘one after the other, like beasts’. We need to commit sui¬
cide . . . we certainly can’t live like this,’ the friend said. 24 Ruth’s friend
Frank addressed the Russian need for women: the euphoria of victory
manifested itself in the flesh of Berlin’s womenfolk; the Russians took
bodily possession of German soil, bit by bit; and bodily they consumed
German flesh, night by night. 25

The preferred form of suicide was poison, and there was much discus¬
sion of the best and most painless way to quit life. The discussions had
started before the Russians arrived. It had been a favourite topic of con¬
versation between Hitler and his secretaries at their nocturnal teas. 26 Berlin
women, it seems, were short of food, but well provided with poison.
There were instances of mass-suicide by poison. The actor Paul Bildt and
some twenty others despatched themselves thus, only he woke again and
lived for another dozen years. His daughter was among the dead. Attesting
once more to the incidence of suicide among the nobles, especially those
who lived on isolated estates in the Mark Brandenburg, the writer cites a
number of cases showing how far the old families would go to protect the
dignity of their daughters: death was preferable to dishonour.

Elsewhere the rapes soon became routine and when it was not accom¬
panied by violence it could eventually be laughed off. A kind of gallows
humour grew up that was encapsulated in the expression ‘Besser ein Iwan
auf dem Bauch als ein Ami auf dem Kopfl’ (Better a Russki on the belly
than a Yank on the head!), meaning that rape was preferable to being blown
up by a bomb. The Woman’s friend, a widow, was over fifty when she was
raped by an unbearded boy. He later paid her a compliment, saying she was
considerably tighter than the women of the Ukraine. She was proud of the
remark and repeated it to other women. 27 One journalist of Margret
Boveri’s acquaintance, for example, was able to make light of her rape, even
if she had cried at the time - ‘in retrospect the story sounded very funny:
the hanging water botde and all the other bits of equipment getting in the
way, the inexperience of the young man and the speed at which it was con¬
summated’. 28 Margret commented: ‘Middle-class people have never spoken
so frankly about sex before. Are they really sympathising with the victims,

CHAOS

or is it more erotic titillation? There is a good deal of longing for love in our
city, deprived of men, and there are many unconscious ways to compen¬
sate.’ 29 Her friend Elsbeth, herself a victim of a savage rapist who had not
only cracked her skull but knocked out most of her teeth, lost her middle-
class prudishness with the experience. Such matters were discussed openly
for the first time: ‘naturally there is lots to laugh about’. 30

In a frightful twist in the gallows humour of the time, Berlin children
used to play the ‘Frau komm mit!’ game, with the boys taking the part of
the soldiers and the girls their victims. In normal times the children had
mimicked ‘Zuriicktreten, Zug fahrt ab!’ (Stand back! The train is leaving!),
a line they heard every time they took the U- or S-Bahn, Berlin’s metro
system. During the war it had been ‘Achtung! Achtung! Schwacher
Kampfverband iiber Perleberg in Richtung auf die Reichshauptstadt’
(Warning! Warning! A light enemy squadron is over Perleberg, flying in the
direction of the Imperial Capital). 31 *

Very few escaped the rapine, although the Swiss Max Schnetzer
reported areas that were spared ‘like a hailstorm that only destroys part of
the harvest’. 32 One acquaintance of Margret Boveri’s who refused was
shot. Another, who was left miraculously alone, explained this by telling
the writer that the Russians didn’t like women who wore spectacles. The
presence of very small children cooled off the lusty Russians on occasion.
As we have seen, Russian sentiment about children was well known. Also
pregnant women were avoided. The Russians were ‘horribly normal’ and
the Woman could think of no instance of‘Man come!’ There was a lesbian
living in her block who dressed as a man, and who was never molested. 33

Men didn’t help much. In some instances they told the women to go
quietly so as not to put their own lives in jeopardy. Some gallantly but
bootlessly tried to come between the rapists and their women, like an
Aryan man who had protected his Jewish wife throughout the war, and
who bled to death while his wife was raped. 34 There was a trade in stars of
David, which sold for up to RM500, but in the end the Russians couldn’t
care less if the woman was Jewish or the house they plundered had a
Jewish owner. They had not gone to war to protect the Jews after all. 35

Sometimes the presence of a husband was a deterrent, but it was a risky
business, particularly if the soldier was drunk. 36 The Russian-speaking Leo

* James Stern found an echo of this in bombed-out Nuremberg. He observed two boys
playing in the sand. They had built a castle. Suddenly one of the boys began to make a wail¬
ing noise like a siren: ‘Ich bin ein Amerikaner!’ The other jumped up with a tin can filled
with sand: ‘Ich bin ein Englander!’ They flapped their arms and cried, ‘Boom! Boom!
Boom!’ and launched their sand at the castle.

IOO

BERLIN

Borchard was able to save one girl by saying she was his daughter. He sat
up drinking schnapps with the Russians and, by doing so, was able to pro¬
tect the female members of his gang, while down in the cellars the ‘victims
squealed like stuck piglets’. 37 Men receive a bad press in contemporary
accounts, but it must have been an emasculating experience for a man to
see or hear his loved one violently raped and be unable to stop it. One
man, who had witnessed his wife laughing and drinking and sleeping with
the Russians, killed her before shooting himself. Others tortured them¬
selves with reproaches about their passivity at the crucial time. The women
complained that their men spurned them after the experience, but con¬
versely many women became frigid after being raped and rejected their
husbands and lovers. The fact that the victims discussed their experiences
with other women within their husbands’ earshot cannot have made it
easier. 38

Canny Berlin women learned quickly that it was wisest to give in and
receive the Russians one at a time than to have to put up with terrifying
gang rapes. The wisest found an officer and stuck with him: a ‘wolf’ to
protect you from wolves, and as high-ranking as possible. In return for
sexual favours he was able to prevent any attacks by the routine soldateska.
This was true for an eighteen-year-old in Klein Machnow who had been
raped sixty times. She found a captain and they left her in peace. 39 The
Woman in Berlin did likewise. After a few tussles with soldiers she found
a sympathetic lieutenant, and finally a major, who wanted more compan¬
ionship than sex. She described the blissful sensation of lying fearless at his
side. When she was later asked the standard question about how many
times it had happened to her she could not say with certainty: ‘No idea. I
had to work my way up through the ranks as far as a major.’ 40

Even those who laughed about the rapes in retrospect found their nerves
ground down by the nightly attacks. Most of the rapists in Charlottenburg,
Margret Boveri discovered, were simple soldiers sleeping rough in the
park. Those who had been properly billeted behaved better. She resorted
to sleeping pills to get though the night, and didn’t wake when the
Russians knocked at her door. Only in the morning did she hear the grim
news from the neighbours.

The rapes continued throughout the time the Russians had Berlin to
themselves, but they slackened off markedly after 4 May. Their initial lust
sated, some Russians, at least, looked for greater refinements. Margret
Boveri’s pretty journalist friend Frau Zetterberg was confined to a hos¬
pital for some time after a two-hour session with a drunken chauffeur.
Another acquaintance suffered a particularly disgusting attack. Margret

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CHAOS

spares us the details, but reminds us of the line of the Empress Theodora,
who had regretted that God had given her just four ways to satisfy her
lust. 41 *

Even when Berlin women were not driven so far as to take their own
lives, the rapes had inevitable consequences in the form of disease and
babies. On 18 August Ruth Friedrich noted that there would be an epi¬
demic of babies in six months’ time ‘who don’t know who their fathers are,
are the products of violence; conceived in fear; and delivered in horror.
Should they be allowed to live?’ Some of these unwanted babies were
placed in a home in Wilmersdorf. In 1946 it was estimated that one in six
of the children born out of wedlock had been fathered by Russians. 42
Coping with syphilis and gonorrhoea without antibiotics was part of a
woman’s life at the time. Ten per cent of those raped were infected, and
antibiotics cost the equivalent of two pounds of coffee. 43 Eventually the
Russians decided to treat the local population themselves. Most of the
unwanted Russian children were aborted, although there was the usual
rumour that Stalin had forbidden the women to dispose of their children
because he wanted to see an alteration in the racial mix. Abortion was a
crude business, normally carried out without anaesthetic and costing about
RMi,ooo. Many women performed the act on themselves, with inevitable
consequences. Despite the massive incidence of abortion, it is estimated
that between 150,000 and 200,000 ‘Russian babies’ survived to see the light
of day. 44

Despite the terror and the rape, sometimes there were sympathetic
moments between the conquerors and the largely unprotected Berlin
women in those first days. Margret Boveri recounts the story of an
impromptu dinner party when Russian soldiers, whom she and her friends
had fed on turnips, returned the favour and arrived bearing wine, still and
sparkling, bread and other edibles and gave the women news of the prob¬
able division of the country into zones of occupation. Such largesse was a
common experience. As the Woman put it, ‘they love to play Father
Christmas’. 45

The daily threat of rape petered out only when the Western Allies
arrived in July, and when the Soviet authorities realised that it was damag¬
ing their chances of political success among the civilian population. When
the first free elections were held it became clear that the Red Army had

* Procopius, The Secret History, trans. G. A. Williamson, London 1990, 41, has just three
ways: ‘And though she brought three openings into service, she often found fault with
nature, grumbling because nature had not made the openings in her nipples wider than is
normal, so that she could devise another variety of intercourse in that region.’

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BERLIN

not won over ‘hearts and minds’ and that Berliners, like the Viennese,
wanted anything but a Moscow-inspired communist regime. 46

By the time Ursula von Kardorff returned in September, she called
Berlin a ‘city without Eros’. ‘Women over thirty look old, frustrated and
sad. Make-up covers up so little. “Frau komm”, the cry that rang through
the city as the victor called for his rights to rape, plunder and shoot, rings
still in every ear.’ She heard her fair share of rape stories: of a girl of her class
who was raped by five Russians and abandoned by her noble fiance; and of
a friend in Zehlendorf who hid behind a coal dump from the Russians but
was given away by another women who sought to protect her own daugh¬
ter. She was raped by twenty-three soldiers and had to be sewn up
afterwards. She could not imagine having sex with a man ever again.
Ursula heard another story, of a girl who had found a lover in an English
soldier. One day she had pointed to a German soldier in rags, called him a
‘prolonger of war’ and slapped him. The English soldier gave the man cig¬
arettes and abandoned the girl on the spot. 47

The Soviets in the Saddle

Officially peace came to Berlin on 8 May. Despite the terror of the past two
weeks, Ruth Friedrich was still positive: ‘free from bombs, free from black¬
outs, free from the Gestapo and free from Nazis! . . . pax nohiscum \’ 48 It had
taken a while to bring in the other Allies to sign the surrender document:
the Briton Tedder, the American Spaatz and the Frenchman de Lattre de
Tassigny.* They came with a band of accredited journalists. Zhukov repre¬
sented the Red Army. The German side was represented by Field Marshal
Keitel, Admiral von Friedeburg and air force General Stumpff. It was
Keitel’s last public engagement before Nuremberg.

The location was the Soviet HQ in an old military engineering school
in Karlshorst in the east of the city. At io p.m. - midnight Russian time -
the German delegation was ushered in. Looking like ‘Boris Karloff’, Keitel
handed over a document signed by Donitz confirming the unconditional
surrender arranged in Rheims the day before. Keitel allegedly trembled as
he signed the Allied paper, and his monocle fell out. The Germans were
bundled out again before a dinner was thrown for the Allied plenipoten¬
tiaries. It was now i a.m. Russian time. The party and dancing went on

* Eisenhower’s mistress, Kay Summersby, was there and took a dim view of the Russian
women soldiers in their knee-length skirts: ‘No British, American or French girl would
been caught dead in their uniforms’ (Eisenhower was my Boss, Watford 1949, 224).

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until the morning. The generals danced, Zhukov performing a Russkaya.
There were four full hours of toasts and many of the soldiers were literally
under the table. 49 When the festivities came to an end there was a massive
cannonade, which some Berliners misinterpreted, imagining the war had
started up all over again. 50 The Soviets had known where to find the wine:
65,000 bottles of claret had been located to this end, and others beside.
They had taken it from a walled-up section of the cellars of Berlin’s best
hotel, the Adlon. The fate of the hotel was sealed by the discovery of the
wine cellar. Russian lorries came to take away the contents, and very soon
a fire broke out that was to destroy one of the few buildings in the street
that had survived the conflict. 51

The ‘Muscovites’ came home in three waves: first the Ulbricht Group,
who arrived behind the 1st Belorussian Front on 27 April; secondly the
Ackermann Group, which followed on the heels of the 2nd Belorussian
Front on 1 May; and thirdly Gustav Sobottka’s men, who landed in
Mecklenburg on 6 May. The Ulbricht Group was the cream of the
Muscovites. They had been housed in Moscow’s Hotel Lux. Ten of them
were flown back to Germany as the Russians moved in for the kill. They
landed at Bruchmiihle, thirty kilometres east of Berlin. On the beautiful
spring morning of May 1, as the Red Army concluded its operations in the
capital, a German woman told them of the widespread rape that had
accompanied the Soviet advance. The Muscovites dismissed her claims as
fantasy. 52 Later Walter Ulbricht conceded that such things might have hap¬
pened, but he was not prepared to discuss the matter: ‘Any concession to
these emotions is, for us, quite simply out of the question.’ 53 Whether that
meant these matters were trivial in the long term or that he did not have
enough power to take it up with the Soviet authorities is not made clear.

Ulbricht emphasised to his colleagues what the task ahead would be.
They were to create cells — ‘our task will be the building of German agen¬
cies for self-government in Berlin’. The group made its way into Berlin. It
was ‘a picture of hell’. They noticed the women around the pumps with
their white and red armbands, confirmed both their peaceful natures and
their friendliness to the Soviet Union. No one was ever in any doubt that
the red had been taken from redundant swastika flags. 54 The Muscovites
had been given the task of finding a means of supplying food to the sur¬
vivors: there was a propaganda role as there were hearts and minds to be
won. The rations for Germans were to be similar to those in the USSR:
300—600 grams of bread daily. 55 Not only did they want to know where
food and water were to be procured, but Ulbricht was anxious for news of
the comrades who had gone into hiding in the city. 56

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BERLIN

Before 1933 the communists had jockeyed for supremacy in Germany
In the last free elections of Weimar Germany in November 1932, they had
won 100 seats to the Nazis’ 196. Some had subsequently gone over to the
NSDAP, becoming ‘beefsteak Nazis’ — brown on the outside, red in the
middle. Some had merely observed the forms. Others had gone under¬
ground and many went into concentration camps. For Ulbricht these men
would provide the material he needed to set up his administration. Some
of the communists were distinctly primitive rebels. They wanted to change
the day of rest to Friday and replace the greeting ‘Guten Tag!’ with ‘Rote
Front’. The Muscovites were generally more urbane. Some had been in the
Russian capital for years and had taken out Soviet citizenship. Some, like
the later spymaster Markus Wolf, had been brought up in Moscow. Hans
Klering, the actor appointed to run the DEFA film studios, had been in
Russia for fourteen years and had a Soviet wife. The Russian colonel
Alexander Dymshitz said ‘He is really a Soviet actor.’ 57

Muscovites were strategically placed in every administration. At the
head they installed a ‘harmless idiot’ who could be guaranteed to rubber-
stamp the decisions taken by the Russian commandant. So the man
installed as mayor of Berlin was the sixty-eight-year-old architect Dr
Arthur Werner, ‘who, coughing and slurping, is hardly capable of deliver¬
ing his Goethe-quotation-filled speech during the five-minute
council-meeting’. Because the Russians had controlled the city since May,
the Allies were not party to the appointments and had to put up with a
Soviet fait accompli. Communists occupied 100 council seats of the 230 in
Berlin. 58 It was the same pattern as Vienna, only a little more so.

The Muscovites’ policy was revealed after the defection of the youngest
of their number, Wolfgang Leonhard. In his book Child of the Revolution he
gave the flavour of Ulbricht s style of government. Ulbricht determined
matters. As Berlin could not be openly communist, it was decided against
placing communists in charge. They could get away with it, perhaps, in
Wedding or Friedrichshain, because both areas had always been ‘red’. ‘In
working-class areas mayors as a rule should be social democrats and
in middle-class precincts - Zehlendorf, Wilmersdorf, Charlottenburg, etc -
we need men of bourgeois background, former members of the Zentrum
[Catholic party], the Democratic or the German People’s Party. Best, those
who have a doctorate and anti-fascist past and are prepared to co-operate
with us . . .’ Attention was also paid to the mayors’ comrades: ‘The first
deputy mayor, the head of personnel and administration and the man
who’s in charge of education must be our chaps. And you’ve also got to
find one comrade who’s totally trustworthy. He’s the one who takes over

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the police . . . it’s got to look democratic, but all that really matters must be
in our hands.’ 59

Ulbricht had been behind the selection of Dr Werner. When he had
first aired the name his fellow Muscovites, Maron, Gyptner and Winzer,
had been less than enthusiastic. Werner was too old, and it was suspected
that he was ‘not quite right in the head’. ‘What’s the matter?’ retorted
Ulbricht. ‘The deputy will be our man.’ So it was that the pliant Werner
became the first post-war Oberbiirgermeister of Berlin, and Karl Maron
became his deputy, albeit with extreme reluctance on Maron’s part. He
wanted to be top dog. 60

As the Russians consolidated their power in Berlin prior to the arrival
of the Western Allies, Zhukov on 12 June authorised the formation of
bourgeois anti-fascist parties like the conservative CDU and the liberal
LPD. Politically the British and the Americans lagged hopelessly behind.
The British first flexed their muscles when on 17 August they acted to cur¬
tail the political power of the block and street wardens — communists who
had inherited the job from the Nazis. Four days later the Americans
scrapped the posts altogether, which had really only been about spying and
denunciation.

The Muscovites set out to eliminate the hated socialists who had dom¬
inated Berlin for most of the Weimar Republic. Fusion was the answer: the
SED or Socialist Unity Party was formed with the compliance of the
leader of the SPD - socialist party - in the SBZ, Otto Grotewohl.
Grotewohl was increasingly compromised: he had run off with a new
woman. She had been in the Bund Deutscher Madel (BdM — the female
version of the Hitler Youth) and a Pg, and the Russians knew it. Local
elections were held in the first half of September 1945. Heavily monitored
by the Soviet authorities, they must have resembled Hitler’s last cynical stab
at democracy in the spring of 1933.

The bourgeois parties were permitted to field candidates only in cer¬
tain constituencies. The CDU ran less than 20 per cent of those presented
by the SED, and the LPD a little over 10 per cent. The results came as no
surprise to any one: the SED won with an aggregate score of 57.1 per
cent, having received more than half the votes in Brandenburg and
Mecklenburg - once the bastion of reaction. 61 Kurt Schumacher, who led
the Socialist Party in the Western zones of Germany, was incensed by the
Soviet emasculation of the SPD; nor were the socialists won over in
Berlin’s Western sectors. In March 1946 the call to join the SED was
rejected by 82.2 per cent of socialists. In the east they were not consulted.
The German Social Democrats had rejected a system intended for all

106

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Germany, and made the first move towards creating a separate state out¬
side the SBZ. 62

With virtually all men of an appropriate age dead, missing or interned,
the Allies created a gerontocracy, using politicians who had been tried and
tested in the Weimar Republic and who had been impotent during Nazi
times. The heads of the CDU in Berlin, for example, were Messrs Schaffer
and Kiilz. Kiilz was an ambitious seventy-year-old, while Schiffer was
more than ten years older and a contemporary of Friedrich Naumann.
Andreas Hermes, who created the CDU in the Soviet Zone, was a
sprightly sixty-seven, but he had been a minister as far back as 1920. After
20 July 1944 he had been arrested, but then released.

Wolfgang Leonhard had been given his instructions. He provides a good
example in his appointment of a mayor to the middle-class borough of
Wilmersdorf in Berlin. He met a man in the street who had been put in a
concentration camp after 20 July. Leonhard wanted to appoint him mayor,
but the man refused the job. The man in the street knew of another man, a
Dr Willenbucher, who completely fitted the description Ulbricht gave to his
lieutenants. Willenbucher was the usual wrecked figure who had crawled
out of a hole after 2 May, but when he was summoned to meet Ulbricht and
have his appointment ratified, he appeared in a black suit, and stood upright:
‘he was no longer bent, and there was a new dignity in his walk’. Ulbricht
broke open the vodka to celebrate his appointment. 63 In Berlin-Zehlendorf,
the first post-Nazi mayor was a Werner Witgenstein; a man with vision who
wanted to turn the borough into a centre for the arts and culture. Cultural
policy was in the hands of a Herr Riihmann, an actor of a very average abil¬
ity who naturally put the weight on cinema and theatre. A Herr Glum (a
former general director of the Kaiser-Wilhelms-Gesellschaft) sought to start
a university — a difficult undertaking when books were being systematically
impounded and taken to Russia.

The authorities in the SBZ were better when it came to marshalling the
talents of prominent pre-war Berliners to help in specific sectors. Thus the
former minister for the food supply, Dr Hermes, was responsible for food;
the great surgeon Sauerbruch was given the health portfolio; and the archi¬
tect Hans Scharoun was assigned building. In the first weeks of June a fresh
delivery of Muscovites included the prudish Wilhelm Pieck, Fred Oelssner,
Paul Wandel, the expressionist poet Johannes R. Becher, Edwin Hornle
and Marthe Arendsee. The former exiles lived a communal life at 80
Prinzenallee, which fairly buzzed with activity. 64 Their final destination was
76—79 Wallstrasse. Their arrival was the cue to refound the KPD or
Communist Party, except it was now to be ‘antifa’ or anti-fascist, and not

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Marxist. Of the sixteen founder members at the meeting on 12 June, thir¬
teen were Muscovites. 65

The Berliners were largely without news. Snippets of gossip were
exchanged around the pretty Wilhelmine pumps that stood in all parts of
the city as the people went to fetch water to wash and cook. The Soviets
remained in sole custody of Berlin for a couple more months, however,
claiming that the texts did not make it clear how the Western Allies were
to have land access to their sectors of the city from the Western zones, even
if the air routes had been mapped out — a detail that was to prove advanta¬
geous to the West during the airlift of 1948—9. 66 *

The Soviets divided their conquered world into Nazis and non-Nazis.
Suddenly the number of people prepared to admit to having been among
Hitler’s nine million began to drop. In Wannsee, for example, the first post¬
war headcount established just eighty members. By July that figure had
risen to a thousand, largely as a result of denunciations. 67 The Pgs were at
a disadvantage in what was already a desperate situation: they received no
rations, and had to spend their days in Schippen, the process of clearing away
the debris and dismantling industry to be shipped back to Russia. The
politically suspect had to assemble at the labour exchanges at 7 a.m. Details
were sent off to clear rubble, bury corpses, clean streets, clear drains and
prepare bricks for rebuilding. 68 There was a rumour that the so-called Alte
Kdmpfer — the people who joined the Party even before Hitler achieved
power — were treated the worst, and had to carry out the most back¬
breaking work in exchange for bread and water.

They worked hard. Margret Boveri reported that ten days after the fall
of Berlin the piles of rubble left by four years of bombing had been cleared
from the streets. Once again the women bore the brunt. ‘Rubble-women’
formed chains with buckets which they filled with broken bricks and
mortar. The few men that were involved in the clearances only worked
when the Russian supervisor looked on. The Russians were quick to
create an infrastructure in Berlin. Financial and cultural institutions were set
up. Sporting fixtures were arranged. 69 The time became Moscow time, and
it was light at midnight as a result. By 13 May a bus route was working
again and on the 14th the first U-Bahn set out since the fall. The airfields
were patched up and put back to work. 70 The Soviet authorities treated
with consideration petitioners who came to them wanting to set up essen¬
tial businesses. Bakers were encouraged to go back to work, and flour was
promised to help them make bread. On 16 May the anonymous Woman

* See below Chapter 20.

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BERLIN

diarist was attached to a Russian officer who had been sent to get the
banking system working again. He suddenly began to speak to her in
French, and she realised he was a Biwsche — a survival from the pre-1917
ancien regime . 71

The Soviet authorities were severe when it came to Pgs. Before the
Western Allies arrived, they closed 1,400 shops owned by Party members
and sacked nearly 12,000 functionaries. Nacht und Nebel kidnappings also
removed nearly 5,500 Berliners, many of them members of the press and
the police. A number of former resisters headed east into captivity as well,
such as Alexander Werth, who had been incarcerated by the Nazis and
worked with Adam von Trott in the Information Department of the
German Foreign Office; and Horst von Einsiedel, a member of the Kreisau
Circle around Helmuth James von Moltke who was to die in a Soviet
prison camp in 1947. Another was an unnamed Baltic baron who had been
in Admiral Canaris’s Abwehr or military intelligence and who was kid¬
napped in the British Sector. Sometimes the Soviets arrested their own
men, as was the case with Makar Ivanov, a culture-boffin who had contacts
with the British through Leo Borchard. 72 The police in the SBZ were run
by Paul Markgraf, a former Wehrmacht colonel who had been captured at
Stalingrad and who converted to communism during his imprisonment by
the Russians. 73 There were exaggerated rumours: the actor Heinrich
George had been shot and his colleague Gustaf Griindgens arrested.
George had been the Intendant of the Schiller Theatre and, as such, a
fellow traveller. He didn’t die for another eighteen months, when he suc¬
cumbed to the treatment he received at the liberated Sachsenhausen
concentration camp. The killing had continued under new masters.

Griindgens had been taken in, but he fared better than George. He had
run the State Theatre during the Third Reich, but used his position to pro¬
tect a number of people who had fallen foul of the regime. The Russians
released him soon after. The danger was denunciation. The Russians
encouraged people to denounce others in order to save their own skins.
The Soviets were especially anxious to discover the whereabouts of the top
officials of the Nazi Propaganda Ministry. Pleading innocence did not
help. If you could not provide an answer you were led away and never
heard of again. Goebbels s Propaganda Ministry (‘ProMi’) had been respon¬
sible for seemingly harmless organisations such as the Foreign Press Club,
but as far as the Russians were concerned anyone tarred with its brush was
liable to arbitrary arrest. Working for the Press Club had had advantages, as
had the Press Department of the Foreign Office, which was Ribbentrop’s
rival organisation to the official Information Department — journalists

109

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received bigger rations. It did not necessarily follow that the people who
performed the relatively menial roles within these organisations were mem¬
bers of the Party, though many were.

A small number of Jews had gone through the war unscathed — they
were the so-called U-Booten or submarines. One man, whom Margret
Boveri encountered on her bicycle, turned out to be a rabbi, who had lived
in comparative peace under an assumed name. Another case she unearthed
was a certain Frau Nerwig, a pure Jewess whose Aryan husband had died
in 1939, but who had married an English Mr Lind pro forma and had
therefore survived the war. As a Mischling, her son Klaus was exempted
from army service and obliged to go to the Todt construction organisation,
where he would have surely died had he not fled at the right moment. The
boy was powerful and blond, and the Russians refused to believe that he
was not an SS man in disguise. The mother responded by pulling the
commanding officer on to the sofa with her. Klaus thereby survived.

A Viennese Jew in British army uniform, George Clare found another
Jewess who had survived the war because her Aryan husband had refused
to divorce her. He had been the headmaster of a Berlin Gymnasium or
grammar school. The Nazis forced him out of his job and he had to work
as a commercial traveller. Then the Russians came and he refused to hand
over his bicycle, so they shot him. 74 Later the Russians were keen to use
what Jews they could find to fill important roles in the city. The machin¬
ist Walter Besser was put in charge of a hospital. The last Berlin Jews were
all lodged in the Jewish Hospital in the Iranische Strasse. They included
twenty or so informers who had been protected by the Gestapo, as well as
a further 800 ‘privileged Jews’ married to Gentiles. As early as 6 May a reli¬
gious service was performed in the hospital by the Rabbi Kahane and five
days later the Sabbath was celebrated at the Jewish Cemetery in
Weissensee. 75 On 21 June there was a Jewish cultural evening at the
Levetzower Strasse synagogue. That month the Soviet authorities
appointed the dentist Moritz Blum as the first head of the Jewish
Governing Board based in the ruins of the old synagogue on the
Oranienburger Strasse.

Subsistence

Food was an obsession for all Berliners. Ruth Friedrich and her friends had
been thrown out of the billet where they had spent the last weeks of the
war. They moved into a deserted house hoping to find food. Onions was

BERLIN

all there was. Later they located a cache of sherbet powder, sweet chews
and stock cubes. Their Mongol friend was not impressed when he came to
call. With Russian help, however, they killed a cow. As they hacked the
beast into manageable pieces they were astonished to see people creep out
of holes in the ground with buckets in their hands and beg for a slice of
bloody meat. ‘Give me the liver . . . Give me the tongue!’ they cried. 76

The Russians provided some food from the beginning. There were
fixed and mobile canteens serving hot soup. In three months they delivered
188,000 tons of food to Berlin. Baking began again on 9 May. It was black
and wet, but it was bread of sorts. Ration cards were introduced on the
17th. The cards were graded I—V. Later a card VI was printed. The largest
rations went to the workers who were eligible for card I: 600 grams of
bread, 30 of fat and 100 of meat; Nazis and housewives received the
‘Hunger Card’ — number V: that meant 300 grams of bread, 7 of fat and 20
of meat. Ruth Friedrich knew a woman who had card V. Her husband had
been a Pg, and she had five children. As they received the food, she lay in
bed, because she was too hungry to stand. She weighed just forty kilos. 77

Margret Boveri lists the contents of her larder and the occasional feasts
she ate during those meagre days. A surprise visit from Elvira von Zitzewitz
was used as a pretext to bring out some of the best things she had: soup
made from a stock prepared from the lung of a horse slaughtered in the
street below, in the last moments of the war; then potatoes boiled in their
skins; the remains of some pasta e piselli ; and, to finish, a dessert made from
‘pudding powder’ and some cherry compote that had begun to ferment: ‘a
meal for the gods!’ 78 Many Berliners grew potatoes among the ruins.
Others had window boxes filled with chervil and borage. 79 The
Charlottenburger seem to have had the pick of the horses. When Ruth
Friedrich walked down the Chaussee (now Strasse des 17 Juni) on 17 May
the street stank of rotting horse carcasses. The bones were picked quite
clean. 80

It could only get worse. Shortage of milk drove mothers in Neukolln to
the local Russian command, or Kommandatura. They said their children
would die without milk. The Soviets replied that it made no difference if
they died now or in a year’s time. At the end of June the Russians rounded
up the ninety cows in the model farm in Dahlem. Their milk had been
largely reserved for them anyhow, but it was bad for morale to see them
leave for Russia. The animals were suffering from foot and mouth disease,
and it was questionable whether they would make it alive. 81 That being
said, the Russians stressed from the beginning that they intended to feed
the Berliners; they created a political structure and encouraged cultural

CHAOS

activity. They did not treat the Germans as the Germans had vowed to deal
with them. The Germans were not to be exterminated.

Those who acquiesced when it came to marauding Russian soldiers
could do considerably better. After a visit by the usual posse of Russians,
the Woman counted her blessings. She had bread, herrings (they had been
cut up on the mahogany table), tinned meat and the remains of a flitch of
bacon, all brought by her visitors. When the Russians left, they took only
the alcohol away with them: ‘I have not eaten so well in years,’ she con¬
cluded. Later a Russian arrived with a couple of small turbot. Even more
astonishing was a later visit when one of her admirers brought her a bottle
of tokay. 82

By mid-June the prices of food on the ‘free’ market were astronomical:
strawberries (then in season) were 7.50 Reichsmarks a pound; a kohlrabi,
50 Pfennigs, but you had to queue for four hours to get one and the
chances were that the shop would be sold out. On the black market a
pound of meat fetched 100 Reichsmarks, and by July the price of a kilo tin
of dripping had risen to RM500. Watches and jewellery could be
exchanged for food from the Russians in the Keithstrasse. 83 The wartime
staple had been potatoes. Margret Boveri’s last delivery had been in
October 1944, which she eked out until mid-July, by which time they were
quite blue inside. Every now and again she and her friends alighted on a
windfall crop in a park or garden. On 18 July she made a list of what she
had been able to obtain so far that month: two kohlrabis, a small lettuce,
250 grams of blackcurrants, 600 grams of sugar, ‘and for 500 gm worth of
coupons, 300 gm of meat. There are no potatoes and no fat. There is nei¬
ther salt nor vinegar. Now, however, I can queue up for bread.’ By the end
of the month there had been much promised, but little received: no fat,
meat, fruit, vegetables, vinegar, ersatz coffee or salt all month; just a part of
the potatoes, bread, 620 grams of sugar, 600 grams of flour and seven
stock cubes. 84

Berliners felt totally cut off from the outside world. There was no trans¬
port (all bicycles and cars were liable to requisition) and there was no
telephone. Meanwhile the Russians were pulling up one set of railway lines
on every track and taking these away with them. Anyone who had illegally
retained their wireless set had to reckon with highly irregular power. The
effect in the long term was to alter the nature of Berlin, from being the
industrial powerhouse that it had been since the nineteenth century to
being a city devoid of industry in the late twentieth.

Two things were important for the dignity of the new helots, particu¬
larly the women: hairstyling and flowers. Margret Boveri took pride in the

112

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flower arrangements she created in her bombed-out house. During the
Berlin Blitz, there had been hairdressers on hand in the flak towers ready
to groom the women until the all-clear sounded. Fuel was another prob¬
lem. With time the Berlin parks — the Tiergarten and the massive
Grunewald — would be shorn of their flora. Even in the summer of 1945
the Grunewald was being cleared of fallen branches, while others looked
for blackened beams in the burned-out buildings. 85 Electricity was restored
on 25 July, however, and on 5 August a limited postal service began to
function. Berlin was no longer isolated from the rest of Germany. But the
agony was not over. After the blights of murder, rape and starvation came
disease: by mid-June a hundred Berliners a day were dying of typhus and
paratyphus carried by human lice, and Berliners were forbidden from
entering premises commandeered by the Western Allies. 86

The Arrival of the Western Allies

Everyone waited for the Western Allies in the hope that their arrival would
improve matters. Stalin, however, was playing for time so that he might
remove anything valuable from the city, and sink trusty communists deep
into any positions of power. Had he been able to renege on the deal to
allow the Anglo-Americans in, he would have done so. Soviet permission
to proceed to Berlin hung on the Western Allies retreating to the demar¬
cation lines drawn up at Yalta. The Anglo-Americans were to fall back
behind the Elbe. 87

On 2 June Lieutenant-General Lucius Clay, who was to head the
American mission in Berlin, had yet to receive instructions. The
Americans’ first attempt to reach Berlin failed utterly. On 17 June Colonel
Frank Howley left with a reconnaissance party of 500 men in a hundred
vehicles. He was well prepared. Behind him he had left a pool of 2,000
college-educated Berlin women who were to be his secretariat in the city
and he had acquired a Horch Roadmaster — Germany’s best car - and
draped it with the Stars and Stripes. As he crossed the Elbe at Dessau in his
Horsch the Soviet authorities insisted he reduce his train and continue with
just thirty-seven officers in fifty vehicles. The convoy, Howley later wrote,
reached ‘Babelsburg [.sic] ... a sort of German Hollywood’ near Potsdam
under Soviet escort where it was forced to stop and eventually return to the
west. Howley was allowed to go up and look at the future American air¬
field at Tempelhof. No one else had been permitted to leave their cars. 88

Howley went back to a Schloss near Halle and sulked. ‘Gentlemen,’ he

CHAOS

told his officers, ‘we are never going to Berlin.’ 89 On 29 June Clay and his
British counterpart General Sir Ronald Weeks and the civilian advisers
Robert Murphy and Sir William Strang landed in Berlin to discuss
arrangements with Marshal Georgii Konstantinovich Zhukov. At that
meeting the frail land lines were established that were to become the Allied
routes to the city until 1989. Howley made another attempt to reach
Berlin on 1 July with 85 officers and 136 men. This time he got through —
although the Russians made him less than welcome when he started put¬
ting up the Stars and Stripes in the American Sector.

Howley says the Americans celebrated their arrival with a fist-fight
with the Russians in a restaurant: a Polish American major apparently
floored six of his Russian allies. 90 Attitudes were clearly beginning to
change: the Germans did not seem such a bad lot after all, and the Russians
were not exactly the sort of people you wanted to have as allies. Summing
up his initial feelings about them in 1945, Howley was to recall that he had
thought of them as ‘big, jolly, balalaika-playing fellows, who drank prodi¬
gious quantities of vodka and liked to wrestle in the drawing room’. 91

The British too made a move on 1 July, only to be told that Magdeburg
Bridge was closed. They found another bridge and slipped into Berlin, but
a full entry was still delayed until the 4th. Officers later recalled the shock
of seeing the lakes in the prosperous west filled with the corpses of women
who had committed suicide after being raped. It was weeks before the
Anglo-Americans achieved a real military presence, even if Ruth Friedrich
reported seeing an American in the Schlossstrasse in Steglitz on 3 July. 92

The main force of the Anglo-Americans arrived on Friday 6 July after
withdrawing their troops from the disputed parts of Saxony, Thuringia and
Mecklenburg — much to the chagrin of their inhabitants. The Control
Council had been created in November 1944, and its seat was to be a
‘jointly occupied’ Berlin. As yet no one knew how that was to be man¬
aged. Would there be checkpoints between the sectors? Were Berliners to
be issued with passports? 93 It was agreed that the presidency of the
Kommandatura would be rotated. Zhukov allegedly informed the
Americans that he would not guarantee food for the Berliners, but visitors
to the Allied conferences were well looked after. The Soviet marshal
claimed that twice as many officers attended the Russian-hosted meetings
because of the quantities of caviar and vodka that were laid out. This feast
was apparently known euphemistically as ‘tea’. 94

Howley relates that the Americans were much taken up with the abuse
of Berlin women by the Russians, conveniently forgetting the widespread
incidence of rape by American soldiers. A Russian general excused his

BERLIN

countrymen, admitting that the rapes had done his country’s reputation no
good, but it was nothing to what the Germans had done in his country. As
the Russians had had Berlin to themselves for two months, they had haunts
in the American Sector they were loath to give up. On one of these
expeditions a girl was killed by some Russian sailors. The Americans com¬
plained, but the Russian commander told them there were no Russian
sailors in Berlin: they had to be bad Germans in stolen Russian uniforms.
The atmosphere grew tense. The Americans self-righteously decided that
they were allowed to shoot to kill when women were involved. Changing
their tune, the Russians excused their conduct by suggesting the men had
been drunk or that they were deserters. In an exchange of fire in a railway
station, some Russians were killed. At this the Russians launched a com¬
plaint. They cited a British sergeant who had knocked a Russians teeth out
and dumped him across the border. That was an appropriate chastisement;
it was wrong to shoot. Howley claimed the shooting ceased with the end
of Russian rape and looting. 95

In Berlin the Russians received the more populous working-class areas
to the east, while the Western Allies carved up the richer districts to the
west. There were enclaves and exclaves: the radio station was in the British
Sector, but remained in Soviet hands; and the village of Steinstiicken was
included in Berlin. There were other anomalies that persisted until 1989:
the Soviets had to be able to tend their war memorial in the Tiergarten,
and each army had the right to monitor the others, which meant issuing
passes to one or two privileged intelligence men who had the right to roam
in a Western or Eastern sector or zone.

The Americans proved a disappointment. The Berliners had the feeling
that they did not know why they were there. Margret Boveri, who had
worked as a journalist in the United States and had been interned there at
the beginning of the war, discovered that many of them spoke less English
than she did. It was better to speak Spanish. Sometimes a little French
helped. Other women were initially relieved that they could sleep in
peace - unbothered by Russian interlopers; but, if that was true in the
main, there were exceptions on both sides. Margret Boveri recounts the
case of an estate-owning family on the edge of Berlin who were out walk¬
ing when the Russians arrived and so ran back to the house petrified with
fear as to what the soldiers would do to their daughters and their friends.
They found to their surprise that the Russians had touched nothing and
had been exceptionally polite. When the Americans arrived, however,
one of the girls was so brutally raped that it took her years to recover from
the shock. In general, however, Margret Boveri thought that whatever

CHAOS

occupying army controlled your sector was the worst in the eyes of the
Berliners. Every inhabitant envied the soldiers of their neighbours. The
Americans were particularly naive. Dr Hussels, medical chief for
Zehlendorf, was asked to provide 2,500 beds. She asked where they
thought she could find them. The officer replied, in the hospitals. She had
to inform him that the Russians had already taken them. 96

The chief excitement was what could be gleaned from American dust¬
bins. Margret Boveri was working for the publishers Ullstein, where she
came across a review of an American book that said the average American
threw away more than the consumption of a Russian civilian. It was
American policy that nothing should be given away and everything should
be thrown away. So those German women who worked for the Americans
were fantastically well fed, but could take nothing for their families or chil¬
dren. A woman who had put some cheese-parings on a windowsill to take
home received a tremendous dressing down, and even the unfinished
coffee was poured down the sink at the end of the day. The Americans
were outraged that the starving Berliners should dare to help themselves to
their food. Colonel Frank Howley had arrived in Berlin with a couple of
tame wild boars the army had adopted on their drive east. When a German
tried to eat one of the boars he was brutally knocked to the ground.
Howley’s fellow officers, however, impressed on him that the boars were
more trouble than they were worth, and the Americans ate both. 97

Margret Boveri’s friend Elsbeth together with her sausage-dog Batzi
came across a real treasure trove discarded in Grunewald. Bread of a white¬
ness Berliners had not seen for years, wrappers from butter and margarine
packets, firm onions; but the Americans found out that someone had
raided their refuse and were more careful after that. There were still finds
to be made, however, and Elsbeth managed to live for five days on a rice
pudding that she had filched out of an incinerator. That pudding had the
makings of an epic. Margret Boveri was still singing its praises days later.
Then she also received some chicken bones, and had the pleasure of
making a soup with a little more body than the vegetable broth she more
habitually used. The supreme delight, however, came when Fraulein
Roscies found a half-eaten sponge cake and a dish of a sort of ‘tapioca-
white-bread pudding’ that contained half a squeezed lemon: ‘a proper,
grown-on-a-tree lemon’. The eating of this plunder runs to a long para¬
graph in her account. 98

Despite the largesse to be found in rubbish bins, there was still a con¬
siderable shortage in the third week of July. So far they had had no meat
that month; it was the sixth week without fat and probably the twenty-fifth

116

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without milk or eggs. Margret Boveri consoled herself by picking some
magnificent flowers and setting them up in her airy if smashed-up room.
In 1950, Howley nonetheless claimed that the Americans were spending
their time worrying about the subsistence of the Berliners. He criticised
the Russian rye loaf, which required 100 lb of flour to make 145 lb of
bread. It was too wet, he said, and rotted.* It is somehow unconvincing, in
the light of later events at least, when Howley reports a conversation with
the French colonel Dalade in which he asks whether food can be political.
The Frenchman replies, ‘Of course!’ Howley and the Americans were
already fully immersed in the war for hearts and minds, and started teach¬
ing Berlin children baseball and basketball."

The refusal to look kindly on the starving Berliners was part of the same
policy that forbade ‘flat’ or socialising with the enemy. Initially frat was
punishable by six months’ imprisonment. Soldiers were forbidden to
shake German hands or give presents and were to treat them as a con¬
quered race. Very soon the Americans in particular were out in pursuit
of ‘Frauleins’, and there were a few curiosities to see. The wife of a former
foreign minister, Frau Solf, for example, who had been condemned to
death by the Nazis for having operated an oppositional salon and spent
over a year in Ravensbrtick, began to receive visits from the British and
the Americans; but, although she was no more than skin and bone, they
brought her nothing to eat. 100 The Anglo-American policy on frat stood
in sharp contrast with the Russian one, whereby contact with the civilian
population was informally permitted as a reward for the one and a punish¬
ment for the other. Some Berliners believed that the Russian policy was
kinder than the ostracism decreed by the Anglo-Americans. Some even
went so far as to say that the Berlin women had been relieved by their
attentions — they had been so long deprived of their own menfolk.

Treating the Berliners like a conquered people engendered sympathy for
the former Nazis. No distinction was to be made between good Germans
and bad Germans, so the good Germans began to muck in with the bad.
In some cases only the names had changed. The Blockwart, the resident
sneak, of Nazi times had briefly reappeared as the Hausobmann. Margret
Boveri’s emerged with the denazification questionnaire, the Fragebogen, in
his hand, crippled with anxiety at the thought that the authorities would
discover he had been a Pg. Ruth Friedrich was stormed by ex-Nazis
asking for testimonials that they had helped Jews. 101 When the people had

* Howley must be confused: in our more prosperous times a kilo of rye flour would require
700 ml of water for a i.6kg German rye Landbrot : it is therefore more than a third water and
may be happily kept for a week.

CHAOS

joined the Party as a matter of routine, of officious lip-service, even anti-
Nazis were prepared to help them.

Worse than the ban on frat was the requisitioning of houses in the
smarter western suburbs such as Zehlendorf and Dahlem. This was the
American Sector, and the area where there were the most comfortable
villas. The US authorities even briefly requisitioned the Titania Palast as an
officers’ club until Leo Borchard succeeded in getting it back. The
Muscovites took over big houses in a largely unscathed Pankow, while the
top Soviet brass settled in Karlshorst. In total some 3,000 flats and houses
had to be made available. ‘Whether anti-Nazi or pro-Nazi, whether rich or
poor, whoever had to get out, had to go,’ wrote Ruth Friedrich. 102

By the autumn of 1945 the Berliner’s living space was reduced to less
than ten square metres. 103 The French had finally pitched up after they
were allotted a morsel of the British Sector in Reinickendorf and Wedding
on 23 July, and found themselves a few nice villas in Frohnau, Wittenau
and Tegel. The British came out of it the worst, as there were fewer pala¬
tial residences in Wilmersdorf or Spandau. Wherever, the grabbing of
houses by the Allies led to acute misery on the part of the stricken popu¬
lation. Not even Jews who had returned from the camps were immune and
were thrown out at pistol-point. The victims were given a few hours to
pack up their things. The result was that they had to find some space in a
friend’s flat until that too was grabbed by another officer of the garrison.
Meanwhile, women who had once led a privileged life in Germany strug¬
gled to find a place as a servant or cleaner to the invaders. One Berliner
who had been kicked out of his house commented bitterly that first the
women had been raped by the Russians, now they had to wait on the
Americans’ whores. 104 Despite their superior airs the Americans wanted to
be greeted as liberators and resented the fact that they were not. Their
cold-blooded approach contrasted strongly with that of the Russians.

Preaching in Dahlem in July the anti-Nazi theologian Otto Dibelius
drew attention to the mortality figures for Berlin. In normal times, the
daily rate was around 200; in the war it had risen to nearer 250 as a result
of the bombing; now the figure was around 1,000, and this in a far smaller
city. The famine was becoming acute. People, chiefly men, were falling like
flies. The final killing spree and the high mortality rate after the cessation
of hostilities meant that there were lots of dead to bury. There was nowhere
to put them and no coffins, and the Allies would not help. Families had
interred their loved ones in the ruins or laid them out in mortuary chapels.
Berliners resorted to using large wooden cupboards or simply wrapping the
body in a horse blanket tied up with cord. Ruth Friedrich records seeing

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an instance of this: a bundle with a pair of yellow, wooden-seeming feet
protruding from the end. 105 All over the city there were ad hoc graveyards.
In front of the cinema opposite the Woman there was a collection of
crosses. The first to be buried there was a girl who had leaped from a third-
storey window to avoid being raped. Fresh crosses began to appear soon
after. 106 Questioned, the Russian general Gorbatov said the famine was the
result of the Nazis, who had sabotaged supplies. 107

The Honeymoon is Oner

At the beginning there was some feeling of community among the vic¬
torious Allies. Frank Howley, who liked to think he had understood the
Russians’ bad faith from the first, cites his superior officer Clay saying
naively, ‘I like Sokolovsky [the Soviet assistant commander], he wouldn’t lie
to me.’ 108 It didn’t take long for the Allies to fall out, not only causing fric¬
tion between the soldiers, but also creating a danger for Germans who
showed too much sympathy for one or other of their conquerors. A
German who worked for the Russians was likely to be harried or impris¬
oned by the Americans. Germans who threw in their lot with the
Americans needed to be careful when they entered the Russian Sector.

A tragedy occurred on 23 August that highlighted the fickle relations
between the Allies and the difficulty in bringing culture back to the shat¬
tered city. Leo Borchard, the first post-war conductor of the Berlin
Philharmonic, was shot by an over-zealous American sentry. The orches¬
tra’s chief conductor, Wilhelm Furtwangler, had fled to Switzerland at the
end of the war, and the Western powers had banned him from the stage.
His crime was to have performed before Hitler, both in Berlin and at
Bayreuth, despite his early resistance to the cultural policies of the Third
Reich. During the war Borchard been a part of an underground resistance
group called Onkel Emil. He had managed to charm the Soviet author¬
ities by speaking their language (he was born in St Petersburg). Having
obtained the Russians’ trust, on 12 May he cycled across Berlin with his
friends to have a look at the Philharmonie Concert Hall. He was going to
steal a march on Furtwangler and take advantage of his Swiss exile to con¬
duct the Berlin Philharmonic. Ruth Friedrich wondered if Furtwangler
had ever pitched up at the concert hall like this. ‘A gruesome still life
revealed itself among the shattered arcades’ — where Bruno Walter (and
more recently Furtwangler) had once directed the orchestra, there lay a
dead horse. 109

119

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Borchard knew how to deal with the Soviets. He obtained larger rations
for the Philharmonic’s musicians: ‘you can’t blow a trumpet with a rum¬
bling stomach’. 110 By 26 May he was performing Mozart, Tchaikovsky’s
Fourth and Mendelssohn’s incidental music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream
in the Titania Palast to an audience of starving, ragged Berliners. 111 He
conducted the orchestra twenty-two times before his death. That fateful
Thursday he and his mistress, Ruth Friedrich, had been invited to dinner
with a music-loving British colonel. It had been a real treat: sandwiches
made from white bread filled with proper meat, and whisky. They talked
passionately about Bach, so much so that they missed the curfew which
came into force at 11 p.m. The colonel decided to drive them home
himself. The night before there had been shots exchanged between
Russian and American soldiers, and the Americans had issued orders to
stop all cars heading towards the Eastern Sector. The sentry failed to notice
that the vehicle was British because the headlights were too bright and
signalled the colonel to stop as he drove under the S-Bahn bridge towards
the Bundesplatz. He had meant to aim at the tyres, but managed to shoot
Borchard through the head. He was killed instantly. 112

Autumn 1945

Berliners had got used to conditions in their city by September, but it came
as a shock to others, especially those who had enjoyed relative prosperity in
the south-west. Ursula von Kardorff finally made it back to Berlin at the
beginning of the autumn, having left in February. Food was very scarce, and
the people shared the same, half-mad look as a result of their experiences
since the Russian conquest. She stayed with her friend Barchen on the
Savigny Platz, in a room without an outside wall. Berliners called such
buildings Sperlings-Lust, or ‘Sparrows’ Delight’, because at any moment you
might take off into thin air. She went out on the Kurfurstendamm. The ban
on ffat was not being closely observed: she noticed elegandy dressed German
girls milling around the American, British and French soldiers. There was
jazz playing in establishments offering hot drinks but no solid food.

Ursula von Kardorff borrowed a bicycle to look at the city centre. The
Wilhelmstrasse had vanished, the Foreign Office was just a ruin. Only the
ProMi was still undamaged. On the Pariser Platz the Adlon Hotel was a
burned-out shell. Her own house had collapsed. On the square there was
a huge statue of Stalin.

The two guardhouses flanking the Brandenburg Gate were piles of

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rubble. Soldiers from the four powers walked around adding a living aspect
to the landscape of ruin. Around the Reichstag building a black market had
grown up. There were Russian graves on the Ranke Platz and abandoned
tanks on the pavements. The latter served as kiosks, announcing dance
schools, new theatres and newspapers and toys for urchins reminiscent of
the pictures by Heinrich Zille. The Franziskus Hospital was the only
undamaged building, and the nuns looked timeless in their habits, as if they
had emerged from somewhere on the Castilian Meseta. Near by, the
Tiergarten was a blackened shambles, looking more like a battlefield than
a landscaped garden.

Fraulein von Kardorff ran into a former colleague from the DAZ
(Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung) newspaper, Ludwig Fiedler, who told her a
typical story. At the end of the war he had been drafted into the
Volkssturm, or home guard, like any other man between fifteen and sixty.
This last remaining human material was charged with defending Germany
in a guerre a I’outrance. In the ruins of the pub Gruban und Souchay, he had
come up against a Russian officer who was about to shoot him. Fiedler had
produced some ‘disgustingly sweet’ schnapps and the Russian and he had
sat down in the middle of the battle and got drunk. The Russian was so
befuddled that he began to kiss his German enemy, then he wanted to kill
him again, then he was so drunk that he forgot all about it. 113

One day Ursula von Kardorff went to see her aunt Kathinka, the wife
of the politician Siegfried von Kardorff-Oheimb. She lived in an elegant
villa near the Tiergarten that had miraculously retained some of its contents
even if it too had lost part of the outer wall. They went to the Hotel
Esplanade near by, the only grand hotel to have partially survived the war.
Only one reception room survived. They had to pay a deposit of 80 marks
for the knives and forks, because so many had been stolen. The potato soup
they ate cost as much as an entire meal in the past.

After lunch they went to the Russian Sector as Aunt Kathinka wanted
to visit her friend Friedrich Ebert, the corpulent, alcoholic son of the first
Weimar president, and ‘a sort of Gauleiter of Brandenburg’ for the
Russians. He looked shabby and hungry. He said he was envious of Ursula
von Kardorff because she was going to return to Jettingen, ‘but I love this
city so much that I want to help it’. 114

Everyone was tense in Berlin. People you hardly knew fell upon you
with delight on seeing that you were still alive. Everyone was Du where in
the past a strictly formal style of address was maintained in circles like
Ursula von Kardorff’s. The theme of every conversation was who had
survived. Someone had killed himself, but no, he had been arrested by the

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Gestapo or the GPU, or perhaps he made it to the British Zone. Another
was shot by the SS because he had hoisted the white flag ten minutes too
early. A third had been polished off by a drunken Russian because he
could not provide him with alcohol. A fourth had spent several days with
the GPU and had then been released. She heard stories that made her
blood run cold; of Gerhard Starke, who was the liaison between her news¬
paper and the SD, and a man who had kept the authorities off their backs.
He had been arrested by the Russians and condemned to die from a bullet
in the head. His captors made him kneel, get up, kneel again, get up until
finally they brought him to a door and opened it. He could scarper, while
he still had the chance.

Old Graf Hardenberg, who had shot himself in the stomach after 20 July
1944, had found his way out of the concentration camp in Oranienburg
where he was being held. Despite his terrible wounds he had fled and
hidden in the woods, while the guards killed out of sheer spite anyone who
might have contributed a positive element to a new Germany. It had been
a miracle — the whole family had survived, even the son who had been pun¬
ished by being sent to Courland where, as a result of Hitlers pig-headedness,
many divisions sat idly by until they were herded together by the Red
Army and led into captivity. He had also chosen his moment to run.” 5

At another time Ursula von Kardorff’s attempts to write were disturbed
by the arrival of one of Barchen’s cousins, with four little girls. She had
arrived from Poland. The little boy had died on the way: ‘He looked like
a little angel, a little angel,’ she repeated mechanically. The woman’s head
was shaved, and she looked drawn and starving. The surviving children
were covered in pus and lice. Barchen washed, brushed, deloused and
bandaged them one by one.

Renee Bedarida was a former resistante who had been sent to work in
the administration of the French Sector. On 15 October she communi¬
cated some of her first impressions of the city to a friend in France. The
Berliners were ‘dirty, badly dressed, and always carried a bag of potatoes or
a bundle of kindling . . .’ The canal that runs along the Charlottenburg
Chaussee ‘stank to high heaven of corpses’, and yet she thought the
Germans were getting more meat than the French, even if she was shocked
to see children begging for bread and chewing gum.” 6

She made visits to the black markets in the Tiergarten and on the
Alexanderplatz.* Five cigarettes procured a film for a camera or an iron

* At Advent a ramshackle Christmas market appeared by the ruins of the Schloss. It was a
refreshing symbol of the return of normality.

122

BERLIN

cross. One of the opera houses was still standing and she went to see
Rigoletto. She was amazed to find the Berlin women all dressed up in their
finery: ‘how could these women dare to walk through Berlin dressed this
way?’ With another French administrator she watched German POWs
arrive at the Stettiner Bahnhof: ‘We felt disarmed, the temptation to
despise them or hate them became impossible at the sight of these miser¬
able people, they were also victims of Hitlers madness.’ 117

Renee lived in Frohnau in the French Sector. It had come through the
war more or less unscathed, but the requisitioning of houses and rooms had
created bad blood. The French were an odd and suspicious collection:
there were old resistance hands, civil servants on secondment, ‘Vichy men
hoping that France would forget about them who had come to wipe the
slate clean on the other side of the Rhine, adventurers and profiteers’. The
French perpetrated a few acts of childish spite: they mutilated a few inscrip¬
tions on the Siegessaule — or Victory Column — in the Tiergarten, which
commemorated German triumph in the Franco-German War, and fes¬
tooned it with French tricolours. In Schwanenwerder they found a
fragment of the Tuileries Palace which had been burned down by the
Paris Communards in 1871, and removed a high-minded panel that talked
of the fate of nations. 118 The Germans themselves did not waste much time
on the French — they realised they were second-division conquerors. 119

Libussa von Krockow arrived from Pomerania in February 1946. It had
been two years since she had lived there, monitoring BBC broadcasts for
Ribbentrop’s research bureau. She recognised the troglodyte dwellings of
the Berliners by the stove pipes protruding from the ground. She was so
dishevelled that the maid of one of her mother’s friends offered her a 50
Pfennig piece and slammed the door in her face. Her body finally gave way
after her ordeal: she was ill for a week. 120

Spring 1946

The military train delivered George Clare to Berlin in the spring of 1946.
It had been a perishing winter with poor shelter. As it got progressively
colder the lack of amenities had begun to pinch. Berliners collected wood
from the ruins and bought candles on the black market. They scavenged for
coal. Infant mortality stood at 80 to 90 per cent. As there was no glass in
the windows, the cold wind came howling through the damaged buildings.
Berliners still went in droves to see Macbeth when it was below zero in the
auditorium. Lady Macbeth shivered with cold on the stage. At Christmas,

123

CHAOS

there was no warmth, no presents and no tree. 121

When the spring came a semblance of normality reappeared: there were
excursions to the cherry orchards of Werder. A Russian stripped off and
leaped into the waters of the Havel, excusing himself this time — it was
‘very hot’. 122 Attitudes to the conquerors appeared to have changed. Clare,
in British uniform, says the British were liked most. The ‘Tommies’ still
exuded a feeling of fair play. The Americans - die Amis - came second.
They were tougher and rougher and their Military Police was particularly
feared. The French continued to be treated as something of a joke: con¬
querors who had played no part in the conquest. Iwan - the Russian
soldier — was by now universally despised. 123

It was not just fresh troops who arrived to restock the Allied garrisons,
exiles gradually returned to look at the city they had once loved. Even
more than a year after the cessation of hostilities, the post-war condition of
Berlin had the power to shock Carl Zuckmayer. Writing to his wife Alice
on 24 November 1946, Zuckmayer said the city was ‘unrecreatable and
almost indescribable’. 124 Some very different exiles flew in on 19 July 1947
when seven old Nazis returned to Berlin: the war criminals who had
escaped the noose at Nuremberg were being flown to Spandau. Speer
stared excitedly out of the window of the Dakota as it came in to land. He
was able to discern the remains of his own contributions to the city: ‘the
East—West Axis, which I had completed for Hitler’s fiftieth birthday. Then
I saw the Olympic stadium, with its obviously well-tended green lawns,
and finally the Chancellery I had designed. It was still there. Although
damaged by several direct hits. The trees of the Tiergarten had all been
felled, so that at first I thought it was an airfield. The Grunewald and the
Havel Lakes were untouched and beautiful as ever.’ 125 It would be twenty
years before he was allowed a second look.

124

Expulsions from Czechoslovakia,
Hungary and Yugoslavia

On 4 May complete calm reigned. Even the three days of public
mourning for the death of Hitler decreed by Secretary of State Frank
passed everywhere without incident. You could never have supposed
or expected that the Czechs, who had in the course of the war never
dared offer even the slightest open resistance to the German armed
forces, would descend into an unprecedented orgy of horror against
defenceless people after the surrender, that spared neither helpless,
wounded soldiers, women or children.

‘H.K.’, 21 June 1947. Quoted in Wilhelm Turnwald, ed., Dokumente
zur Austreibung der Sudetendeutschen, Munich 1951, 18

T he so-called Sudetenland and its German population had been one of
the causes of the war. Hitler had taken up the complaints of the
Sudetenlander: Bohemians and Moravians under the leadership of Konrad
Henlein. Their mistreatment had prompted the Munich Agreement of
September 1938, which ceded much of the border area to Germany, leav¬
ing the rest of the country defenceless. In the spring of 1939, German tanks
rolled into Prague.

It is true that the Sudetenlander had their grievances. Former subjects of
the Austrian Crown, their towns and villages formed a deep ring around
the Czech lands. They also made up a large percentage of the populations
of Prague and Brno (Brlinn), Iglau and Zwittau. In Slovakia there were
Insel und Streudeutsche (Island and Straw Germans); there were German
communities in the Carpathian Mountains and a colony amounting to just
under a third of the city of Pressburg or Bratislava. In Troppau they were
wholly intermingled with the Slavs and spoke their own patois called
Slonzakische, but in most areas they maintained a fierce division. They felt
they had been duped at Saint-Germain-en-Laye in October 1919 when
the Allies finally refused them a right to ‘self-determination’ as promised
by President Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points. 1 Benes, representing

125

CHAOS

Czechoslovakia, had proclaimed that his state would be the ‘new
Switzerland’ with minority rights ensured by a system of cantons. This
never happened. 2 All German-speakers (including German-speakingjews)
were affected by the new state which cut them off from their capital,
Vienna — from their businesses, government, friends and relations. 3

The West had granted the Czechs’ leader the historic Czech territory of
Bohemia and Moravia, together with Slovakia. Over the centuries, how¬
ever, huge numbers of Germans had settled in the Czech lands and
Hungarians in the Slovak east. The Czechs became the political lords and
masters of the new state, though they amounted to just 51 per cent of the
population.* The Germans formed nearly a quarter, but the Slavic Slovaks
could not be expected to side with them, so it would always be two against
one. Conflict was ‘pre-programmed’. 4 There were even attempts to break
up the German lands by planting Czech colonies. 54

As grieving Germans were quick to point out, their numbers in Bohemia
and Moravia were greater than the entire Norwegian people and almost the
same as the Danes or the Finns. They had their political organisations:
Henlein’s SdP, or Sudetenland Party, represented 68 per cent of the
Germans, and was the biggest party in the Czechoslovak state. There was
also the Sudetenland Socialist Party, which co-operated with the Czechs. If
the Germans could never achieve any political clout, until recently, they
still had topped the bill socially and financially — though many Germans
had been hard hit by the Depression. The Czechs were employed in their
businesses, on their farms. The nobility and captains of industry were
German-speaking as were many lawyers and doctors. In 1945 there were
many instances of farmworkers appropriating German farms, the junior
doctors snatching the German practice, and the junior managers taking over
German businesses - to some extent repeating the process that had taken
place in 1938 when the Germans became top dogs again. There were cases
of pure opportunism: Czechs, who had up till then moved in German circles,

* In the Czech lands in the west, the Germans made up just over a third of the population
in the 1930 census, with roughly two-thirds of these in Bohemia and the rest in Moravia. In
Czechoslovakia as a whole, Germans were 22.53 P er cent of the population, with Czechs
and Slovakians making up 66.24 P er cent together. There was a significant Magyar minor¬
ity in Slovakia. Of these 3,318,445 people, 3,231,688 had Czech nationality. (Theodor
Schieder, ed., Tschechoslowakei, Berlin 1957, 7.)

fThe German population was declining. In 1920 it had been 23.64 per cent. In the German
core, towns had seen the Czech communities grow: in Aussig they had advanced from 10
per cent in 1910 to a third in 1930; in Briix from 20 per cent to a third; in Reichenberg the
Germans had declined by 10 per cent; in Troppau the Czechs had been 10 per cent, now
they were a third, and so on. (Schieder, ed., Tschechoslowakei, 10.)

126

EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

had German wives or German-speaking children, suddenly became the
apostles of Czech nationalism and hunted down former friends. When the
communists took over in 1948, those who had profited from the Revolution
launched in May 1945 lost most of what they had gained.

The events of September 1938 and the occupation of the rest of
Czechoslovakia had made the Czechs more than bitter towards the German
minority. The German-speaking area became part of the Reich, and the
people Germans — this change of nationality was to prove fatal in 1945. The
previously grieving regions were attributed to the nearest German land-
mass: a Reichsgau Sudetenland encompassed the core towns of Troppau,
Aussig, Eger and Reichenberg; the region around Hultschin was attached
to Oppeln in Upper Silesia; northern Bohemia to Lower Bavaria; southern
Bohemia to the new Austrian Reichsgau Upper Danube; southern
Moravia to the newly forged Reichsgau Lower Danube; and Teschen to
the recaptured Polish parts of Upper Silesia centred around Kattowitz. 6 In
the remaining areas of the ‘Protectorate’ citizenship was awarded on racial
grounds: ethnic Germans were attached to the Reich. For many Gennan-
speakers the change was tantamount to signing their death warrants. 7

It was enough for a lawyer to have practised German law to receive a
death sentence. 8 The Czechs had not welcomed Hider as the Austrians had
and even some members of the German-speaking population had been
more than apprehensive: socialists, Jews and the large number of Germans
from the Reich who had sought refuge in Prague. When the tide turned
in the war the Czechs looked forward to the moment when they could
deal with the ‘German problem’ once and for all.

When he felt that victory was certain, Benes had left London for
Moscow. Before he went he told the British ambassador to the Czech gov¬
ernment in exile, Philip Nicols, that he would need to effect the transfer of
the German population and deprive them of their citizenship, otherwise
‘riots, fights, massacres of Germans would take place’. Molotov assured him
that the expulsions would be but a ‘trifle’. Benes received the necessary
assurances from Stalin: ‘This time we shall destroy the Germans so that they
can never again attack the Slavs.’ He also assured the Czechs in Moscow
that he would not meddle in the domestic affairs of a Slav nation, which,
in retrospect, gives a rather clearer idea of how much his word could be
relied upon. 9

127

CHAOS

Benes’s Return

Benes left Moscow on the last day of March 1945. On 1 April he was in
the Ukraine. His goal was Kosice in Slovakia where he remained for
thirty-three days while the Russians and Americans carved up the country
and the Czechs rose up in their wake. Patton’s American troops moved up
rapidly behind Field Marshal Schorner’s 800,000-man army. On 4 May
they crossed the mountain passes from Germany to assume their preor¬
dained positions along the line Carlsbad—Pilsen—Budweis. The American
general had been told that Prague was out of bounds. He stopped in
Beraun. The Czechs wanted to grab the credit for the liberation of the cap¬
ital. On the night of 8 May the Red Army formed a protective shield
around the city allowing the uprising to take its course. 10

On 6 May the Red Army reached Brno. The day before Benes heard
that Prague had risen against the Germans. He moved on to Bratislava. The
progress of the Russians was the signal for most of Vlasovs divisions to head
south into Austria;* the Cossacks were in two minds about being captured
by the Red Army, although some did go into Prague, and effectively lib¬
erated it before the regular Russian forces. 11 In Prague the resistance
formed the CNR (Ceska narodni rada, or Czech National Council). The
first Red Army tanks entered the city on the 9th and military operations
ended two days later when Schorner retreated. Benes did not make his tri¬
umphal entry until the 16th. His excuse for coming so slowly had been his
own safety — there were German snipers about. 12

Benes showed his hand first in his Kosice Statutes'! Q f 5 April 1945:
‘Woe, woe, woe, thrice woe to the Germans, we will liquidate you!’ he
intoned on the wireless. There followed his famous decrees. Number five,
for example, declared all Germans and Hungarians to be politically unre¬
liable and their possessions were therefore to fall to the Czech state. The
Kosice Programme unleashed a ‘storm of retribution, revenge and
hatred . . . Wherever the troops of the Czech General Svoboda’s army —
which was fighting alongside the Russians - and the Revolutionary Guards
(Narodni vybor) emerged, they did not ask who was guilty and who was
innocent, they were looking for Germans.’ 13

On 12 May Benes repeated his threats in Brno: We have decided . . .
that we have to liquidate the German problem in our republic once and for
all.’ 14 On 19 June came the first of the ‘Retribution Decrees’: ‘Nazi
* See above p. 44.

f Kaschauer in German, from the German name of the town, Kaschau.

128

EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

criminals, traitors and their supporters’ were to be tried before
‘Extraordinary People’s Courts’. These were primitive tribunals. It took all
of ten minutes to try a man and send him down for fifteen years. There
were 475 ‘official’ capital sentences. Thirty death sentences were handed
out for those involved in the Lidice Massacre. 15 A national court would
examine war crimes. On 21 June came the next decree: all persons of
German or Hungarian nationality, traitors or Quislings were to lose their
land. Germany would pay reparations. There was to be no compensation
for loss of citizenship or property. The last measure was the so-called ‘Little
Decree’ of 27 October which laid down the punishment for those who had
offended against national honour. 16 On 6 August Benes had spoken at
Prague University, a discourse that had particular resonance for Germans,
not least because it was considered Germany’s oldest seat of learning. He
had hardened his heart against all pleas for humanity: ‘We know that lib¬
eral society is in theory and practice an anachronism.’ 17 Already 800,000
Germans had been chased out of the country.

To implement Benes’s various decrees there were ‘judicial volunteers’
and a Central Committee of Investigation (Ustredni vysetrujici vybor).
There were a fair number of KZler, or former concentration-camp
inmates, among them, graduates of Dachau and Buchenwald. Many of
their acolytes were mere ‘half-grown’ boys. lfi Those who suffered agreed
that the sixteen to twenty-five-year-olds were the worst. 19 By September
they had around 100,000 prisoners: 89,263 German-speakers, 10,006
Czechs and 328 others. They had released 1,094 Czechs and 613 anti¬
fascist Germans. The most pernicious decree was the ‘Little’ one, employed
for ‘settling various personal accounts’, although the process had started
long before. Benes himself was not immune, and wrought his revenge on
various Czechs. His apologists admit a popular desire for retribution; 20 it
was the ‘duty of the government to turn the turbulent mood’, however.

Instead, many politicians, including Benes himself, exploited it. As
another historian puts it, the atrocities ‘were not driven from above, but
without the toleration of the authorities in Prague they would hardly have
been able to persist into the summer months’. 21 In the end even the British
(who had encouraged the purge) protested to Benes about ‘excesses’ and
there was a distinct turning down of the heat while the Big Three met in
Potsdam. 22 Expelling the Germans was a vote catcher, but not a measure
likely to make friends — except possibly with the Poles. In retrospect it has
been hard to find mitigating circumstances to excuse Benes, apart from the
fact that he was old and ill and thought he might defeat the communists by
unleashing the terror himself. 23

129

CHAOS

Revenge

For seven years the Czechs and Slovaks had suffered humiliation at the
hands of the Germans. In the extreme Nazi view all Slavs were
Untermenschen and the German regime treated them as second-class citi¬
zens. As in other Slavic lands there were plans to ‘Germanise’ parts of the
country, no doubt partly in response to the cold wind that had greeted the
Germans after 1919, which had — for example — seen the decline of the
German population in the city of Brno from 60 to 20 per cent. In Znaim
the number of Germans had also dwindled after 1918, but had increased
sharply after 1938. A Bohemian and Moravian Land Company had been
formed to find areas for settlement by Germans. The company ran a model
farm. During the Protectorate 16,000 agrarian holdings were confiscated,
totalling 550,000 hectares. Some 70,000 Czechs lost their homes. At the
beginning of April 1945 treks were organised to evacuate the German
colonists and take them back to the Sudetenland. 24 The numbers of
Germans had been further expanded by evacuations and the advance of the
Red Army. There were around 600,000 of the former and 100,000
Slovakian Germans together with 1.6 million Silesians taking refuge in the
region. 25 Some of the Slovakian Germans had already gone to Lower
Austria. 26

The resistance had been wiped out as early as the autumn of 1941, and
was unable to re-form until 1943 and 1944, when there was an uprising in
Slovakia. Nazi brutality was measured: apart from the massacre at Lidice —
provoked by the British-masterminded assassination of the deputy protector
Reinhard Heydrich — there were no startling atrocities. 27 The country
was hardly touched by the aerial bombardment that struck terror into the
rest of Europe. 28 The French bore far worse, and behaved better towards
the defeated Germans; but then again, the French were not considered to
be racially inferior.

The clue to the severity of the post-war response is the Revolution.
This was to be revenge for everything that had happened since the Battle
of the White Mountain in 1620 when Imperial troops wiped out the
native Bohemian nobility. Germans were still the masters, the Czechs the
servants; the nobility was all German- or Hungarian-speaking and gravi¬
tated towards Vienna or Budapest. Prague’s old university was German
once again, and there were German Gymnasiums and Realschulen. The
Czechs resented these institutions as many of their own had been closed
during the ‘Protectorate’. It is significant that these were turned into ‘wild’

130

EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

or unofficial concentration camps in May. Brno too had its Technische
Hochschule, German institutions, shops and pubs. With the backing of the
Red Army, and a clear idea that the Western Allies would turn a blind eye
to all that happened, the Czechs would seize their moment for some spec¬
tacular ethnic cleansing.

Measures were introduced consciously aping those taken by the
Germans against the Jews: they could go out only at certain times of day;
they were obliged to wear white armbands, sometimes emblazoned with an
‘N’ for Nemec or German; 39 they were forbidden from using public trans¬
port or walking on the pavement; they could not send letters or go to the
cinema, theatre or pub; they had restricted times for buying food; and they
could not own jewellery, gold, silver, precious stones, wireless sets or cam¬
eras. They were issued with ration cards, but were not allowed meat, eggs,
milk, cheese or fruit. The Germans also had to be ready to work as slaves
on farms, in industry or in the mines.

There were two waves of atrocities: Russian liberators, who raped and
pillaged, and the Czech partisans who arrived in their wake. As elsewhere,
the Russians had been given carte-blanche. The Czechs were less prone to
sexual crimes, but were often accused of acting as talent spotters for their
Soviet friends. There are several reported instances, however, of the
Russians putting a stop to the worst excesses of the Czechs. 30 The Czech
atrocities committed in the following weeks and months were led by the
RG (Revolucni Garda) and the special police or SNB (Sbor Narodni
Bezpecnosti) who wore German military trousers and SA shirts, together
with the army, or with civilian mobs bent on plunder and sadistic violence.
The reports read like some of the most gruesome moments of the French
Revolutionary Terror.

For prosperous Germans a striking aspect was blatant theft. The Czech
partisans took anything that appealed to them and piled it up on a waiting
lorry which then disappeared into the Protectorate. Sometimes they simply
moved into the house, adopting the former owner’s possessions and putting
on the banished Germans’ clothes. The train from Prague to the north was
called the ‘Alaska Express’, alluding to the gold rush, and those who took
it were zlatokopci or ‘gold-diggers’. 31 Once the wilder days were over, the
new Czech Republic moved to regulate the plunder so that the booty
came to the state. In 1947 the expellees assessed the value of the stolen
effects at 19.44 milliard dollars. 32

CHAOS

Prague

At the end of the war Prague contained around 42,000 Germans native to
the city, together with a further 200,000 or so ‘Reich’ Germans working
for the various staffs and ministries, as well as refugees. 33 The streets of
Prague were quite used to hearing the German language spoken — many of
Prague’s Jews communicated in German. As soon as the battle for Prague
ended, Czech partisan units began to imprison German civilians and intern
them at various points around the city. The morning of 5 May 1945 was
quite calm. Germans still walked the streets in uniform. The mood
changed at 11.00 a.m. Suddenly there was a great cry and people began to
wave Czech flags. Arms were being handed out at Buben railway station.
Some units of the Vlasov Army appeared. A hospital train was shot up. The
insurgents captured the radio station and began broadcasting the slogan
‘Smrt Nemcum! Smrt vsem Nemcum! Smrt vsem Okkupanten!’ (Death to
the Germans! Death to all Germans! Death to all occupiers!). There was to
be no mercy for old men, women or children — even for German dogs:
Margarete Schell’s was stoned by Czech children and had to be shot. It was
the first day of the Revolution. 34

It was the day Margarete Schell was taken into custody by a ‘nasty
butcher’ of her acquaintance. The RG were attended by people who
knew the Germans and could show them where they lived. Margarete was
well known — a voice on Prague Radio and an actress. She was incarcerated
in a cellar and then transferred to Hagibor Camp. It was March 1946
before she was taken in a goods wagon to freedom in Germany. As a born
Praguer, she did not know how to answer the ‘Gretchen Question’:* ‘Why
do you admit to being a German?’ She was a Prague German. Doubtless
there were Prague Germans who thought it wiser not to say; and some of
these would have escaped denunciation. Another ruse was to make out you
were an Austrian. The Austrian ambassador appeared in their temporary
prison to reclaim Austrian subjects, but his intercession did little for the
40,000 Austrians who were living in terror outside the capital. 35

Many of the city’s most notable Germans were put to death during this
bloodletting. Professor Albrecht, the last rector of the German university,
was arrested at the Institute for Neurology and Psychiatry. He was beaten
up and hanged outside the lunatic asylum. The director of the Institute for

* From Part One of Goethes Faust. Gretchen asks Faust the question he most dreads:
whether he believes in God.

132

EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

Dermatology suffered a similar fate. Hans Wagner, a Prague-born German
physician attached to the German army, last saw his former colleague, the
dean of the German Medical Faculty, Professor Maximilian Watzka, in
Pankrac Prison. The German-speaking nobles were also targeted:
Alexander Thurn und Taxis was thrown into a wild concentration camp
with his family He and his two sons had to watch while his wife, her
mother and the governess were repeatedly raped. When the sport was
over he was marched off to a Russo-Polish run Auschwitz. 36

A truce was declared at midday on the 8 May when the German army
began to leave the city. No adequate arrangements had been made between
the Czech National Council and the Wehrmacht for the transport of sick
and injured soldiers and some 50,000 soldiers were left behind. On the 9th
the Red Army finally appeared in Prague and Germans were told to bow
when they saw a Soviet car. 37 The physics graduate ‘K.F.’, who had been
imprisoned on the 5th, was taken out and forced to clear the barricades
which had been built by the Czechs as they rose up against the garrison and
which were preventing the Russians from getthing their tanks down the
streets. 38 Germans were beaten bloody with iron bars and lead pipes by a
civilian mob and made to remove their shoes and run over broken glass.
The biggest barricades were 2.5 to 3 metres high, and made up of paving
stones, iron bars and barbed wire. They had to dismantle the obstacles and
repave the streets.

Women too were forced to clear the barricades. Helene Bugner was first
beaten by the porter of her block of flats, then a Professor Zelenka drove
her and twenty other women off to clear the streets. ‘Here, I have brought
you some German sows!’ said the professor. Their hair was cut with bay¬
onets and they were stripped of shoes and stockings. Both men and women
died from the beatings. A large crowd of Czechs stood by and cheered
whenever a woman was struck or fell. At the end of their work they had
to tread on a large picture of Hitler and spit on it. Margarete Schell saw
people being forced to eat pieces of such pictures as she too was put to
work on the barricades. 39 As they were driven off, one woman heard a
Czech tell another, ‘Don’t hit them on the head, they might die at once.
They must suffer longer and a lot more.’ When Helene Bugner returned
that evening she was unrecognisable to her children.

Marianne Klaus saw her husband alive for the last time on the 9th. She
received his body the next day — the sixty-six-year-old had been beaten to
death by the police. On the same day she saw two SS men suffer a similar
fate, kicked in the stomach until blood spurted out; a woman Wehrmacht
auxiliary stoned and hanged; and another SS man hung up by his feet from

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a lamppost and set alight. 40 Many witnesses attested to the stringing up and
burning of Germans as ‘living torches’, not just soldiers but also young boys
and girls. Most were SS men, but as the Czechs were not always too
scrupulous about looking at the uniforms, a number of Wehrmacht soldiers
perished in this way too. In part this savagery was a response to a rumour
that the Germans had been killing hostages. There was reportedly a repeat
performance on the day when Benes finally arrived in Prague: Germans
were torched in rows on lampposts. 41

The Ministry of Education, the Military Prison, the Riding School, the
Sports Stadium and the Labour Exchange were set aside for German pris¬
oners. The Scharnhorst School was the scene of a massacre on the night of
the 5th. Groups of ten Germans were led down to the courtyard and shot:
men, women and children — even babies. The others had to strip the
corpses and bury them. Alfred Gebauer saw female SS employees forced to
roll naked in a pool of water before they were beaten senseless with rifle
butts. There were as many as 10,000—15,000 Germans in the football sta¬
dium in Strahov. Here the Czechs organised a game where 5,000 prisoners
had to run for their lives as guards fired on them with machine guns.
Some were shot in the latrines. The bodies were not cleared away and
those who used the latrines later had to defecate on their dead country¬
men. As a rule all SS men were killed, generally by a shot in the back of the
head or the stomach. Even after 16 May when order was meant to be
restored, twelve to twenty people died daily and were taken away from the
stadium on a dung wagon. Most had been tortured first. Many were buried
in mass graves at Pankrac Prison where a detachment of sixty prisoners was
on hand to inter the corpses. Another impromptu prison was in a hotel up
in the hills. This had been the Wehrmacht s brothel. A number of Germans
were locked up in the cellar, and the whores and their pimps indulged in
a new orgy of sadism and perversity. German men and women had to strip
naked for their treatment. One of them was Professor Walter Dick, head of
a department at the Bulovka Hospital. He was driven insane by his tor¬
turers and hanged himself on a chain.

One witness who was too ill to work was sent to the hospital camp at
Motol, where there was an SS ‘cellar’. This contained eighty to a hundred
men who were brought out every day for beatings. A local speciality was
to get the men to beat one another. In this case they had to slap one
another round the face. They were often stripped naked prior to the tor¬
ture and then literally booted down the steps to their cell once the guards
had tired of their fun. The SS cellar contained a number of Hitler Youth
boys of fourteen. Whenever it was deemed to be too full, guards fired at

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random though the bars to create more space. Gebauer swore that Czech
collaborators were also badly treated, particularly women who had had
German lovers. Thousands of dead Germans were buried in the cemetery
in Wokowitz. 42

Some German Bohemians eluded arrest by helping the Russians and
Czech authorities. Hans Wagner indicated a Dr Rein from Postelberg, a
prison doctor who was especially cruel. The Russians wanted the pick of
the women. In the cellar where Margarete Schell was imprisoned, a plump
doctor — possibly a Jew — came to take some of the women to safety
before the Russians made their tour. A woman wanted to bring her chil¬
dren: ‘Kinder hier lassen, Kindern tun sie nichts,’ he said (Leave the
children here, they won’t do anything to the children). When they
returned the Russians had taken four girls who returned exhausted in the
morning. 43 Acts of kindness by Czechs were numerous. Some risked their
lives to protect friends and acquaintances. ‘Hansi’ Thurn und Taxis reached
safety in Austria through the intercession of a Czech general. He was
assisted at the beginning by a Russian forced labourer on his estate. 44

One wounded German officer had been in the Oko cinema since the 6
May. After helping tear down the barricades that day he was taken back to
his temporary prison. There was no peace that night: the Russians and
Czechs came for the women. Men who tried to protect them were beaten
up, children who would not let go of their mothers’ skirts were dragged
out with them and forced to watch. Several women tried to commit sui¬
cide. The officer remained in the cinema until Whitsun. That day the cries
of tortured Germans coming from the Riding School mingled with the
voices of churchgoers next door, ‘praying for mercy and neighbourly
love’. 45

After Whitsun the officer was taken to the Scharnhorst School. There
was an ominous sign over the door reading ‘Koncentracni Tabor’. ‘There
they tried to surpass in everything all that they had learned of concentra¬
tion camps.’ Cinemas were popular sites for ‘concentration camps’. The
Slavia in Ripska ulice was also used for around 500—700 prisoners. 46 The
physics graduate ‘K.F.’ was taken there too and tortured. On the 10th he
was taken off to Wenceslaus Square and driven towards three naked bodies
hanging by their feet from a billboard. They had been covered with petrol
and set alight, their faces punched in and the teeth knocked out - their
mouths were just bloody holes. With others he was then obliged to drag
the corpses back to the school.

Once they had laid down the bodies, one of the Czechs told the gradu¬
ate: ‘To jsou prece vasi bratri, ted’je polibejte!’ (They are your brothers, go

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on . . . kiss them!). Scarcely had he wiped the blood from his mouth than
he was taken to the ‘death cellar’ to be beaten to death. They despatched
the young Germans one by one. The graduate was the fourth in line. After
the second killing a door opened and a Czech man came in. The gradu¬
ate learned later that this was the nephew of the minister Stransky. He
asked them who they were, and led out the graduate and a seventeen-year-
old Hitler Youth, because they were the two that spoke Czech. In general,
knowledge of Czech helped, but no one was immune: former officials,
police officers and German-speaking Jews were subjected to imprison¬
ment — even if they had just emerged from Nazi concentration camps. The
minister’s son told them with a grin on his face that they were the only
ones who had ever emerged from the cellar alive. 47

Anna Seidel was a sixty-seven-year-old engineer’s widow living in
Prague-Smichow. On the 9th she was rounded up with three other ladies,
two of them of her age. They were robbed and beaten black and blue; their
hair was shorn, their foreheads daubed with swastikas; they were then
paraded through the streets on a lorry, shouting ‘My jsme Hitler-kurvy! ’
(We are Hitler-whores!). If they did not shout loudly enough they were
beaten again. After four weeks in Pankrac they were taken to
Theresienstadt, where they remained for a year. Helene Bugner was taken
away to Hagibor, which was seen as one of the better camps. From there
she went to Kolin where the younger women were raped by Russians,
some of them as many as forty-five times in a night. A Czech woman
working for the Red Cross had set herself up as the talent-spotter. The
women returned from these nightly sessions badly bitten by their para¬
mours. Helene Bugner was released from agricultural work after three and
a half months following complaints by the British: she had been a secretary
in the legation for twelve years. 48

Hans Wagner went to the Russian commander to beg for more beds for
the sick and wounded. He took the precaution of going with a Czech col¬
league, Dr Dobbek. The Russian general Gordow was not in the slightest
bit interested: ‘If you have no room for your wounded, throw them in the
Vltava, there is plenty of room for them there!’ 49 Wagner went for a walk
on the afternoon of the 14th. Hanging from the sign to the famous restau¬
rant U svateho Havla were the half-carbonised remains of a German soldier
who had been strung up by his heels. His right arm was missing from the
shoulder. Wagner concluded that he was an amputee. Everywhere he
noted the signs that the communists had taken over, under the shadow of
the liberating Red Army. After popping into the Elekra, the family coffee
house, he went towards the railway station. A blonde woman was being

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attacked by a mob. She was shouting in perfect Czech, but in a moment
she was surrounded and stripped of her clothes. A dray wagon came by, and
each of her limbs was attached to one of the horses. The beasts were
driven off in opposite directions.

With the re-establishment of government, the wild concentration camps
in Prague’s cinemas and schools were wound up and the prisoners
despatched to proper camps. One woman who had been in the Slavia
cinema and claimed to have been spared from lynching by a semi-
miraculous thunderstorm was taken to the main station on a sort of death
march, which saw many German Bohemians beaten to death to the
applause of the local mob. They were pushed into coal trucks where they
were robbed one last time and then taken away. Others endured the death
march to Theresienstadt. It is estimated that only io per cent of those who
set out from Prague survived. 50 Modrany was another infamous Czech
camp, mostly populated by Prague Germans; another was Bystrice, where
Margarete Schell went on 28 July. The prisoners were welcomed by a
demonstration of brutality. Anyone with professional titles was singled out
for extra beating. She was whipped. She began to despair: We will never
get out of here, this is the last stop.’ 51

The fate of the Prague Germans slowly became known to the outside
world. The Austrians were busy trying to show the Allies that they had never
had any affection for Germany and the Nazis, and they had their own prob¬
lems. In Vienna the former diplomat Josef Schoner was visited by a Prague
Czech on 18 May who gave him a misleading report that all the Germans
had been interned or were working on rebuilding. The Gennan-speakers
were finished; they had defended themselves fiercely during the uprising,
particularly the women, while the Russians had plundered the city like
Vienna. They had also looted freely in Bratislava, and there had been a high
incidence of rape, ‘so that the first elation at liberation had much abated’. 52

Many Germans spent a prolonged period in Pankrac Prison. Wagner
claimed that a special treat for visiting Russian bigwigs was to be taken over
the prison and witness a German being beaten to death. Another was to
toss a prisoner from a second-floor parapet and shoot at him while he
plummeted to the ground. Some boys from Reichenberg were accused of
being Werewolves. They had to fight one another until they were bloody
and then lick up the blood. When that resulted in vomiting, that too had
to be licked up. When they had cleaned up the mess they were stripped
and beaten with whips until the skin hung from their bodies. Then they
were tossed into a cellar. Those who did not die from their wounds were
later hanged. 53

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Caught up in the massacres were not just Prague Germans but refugees
from eastern Bohemia and Moravia. Wagner saw a miserable troop of old
men, women and children from Ohlau. He tried to give them milk but the
RG dashed the bottles out of his hands and threatened to shoot the chil¬
dren who were prepared to lick it up from the pavement. International
condemnation had little effect. In the ‘revolutionary’ days, the International
Red Cross was too frightened of the Russians to act. In Prosecnice camp
there was an IRC inspection in April 1946. As soon as the visit was over,
the treatment of prisoners became worse. 54

Landskron

The massacres were by no means confined to the capital. As soon as the
Russians had liberated a town or village, partisans arrived to administer rev¬
olutionary justice. The primary targets were members of the Nazi or
Sudetenland Party (SdP), or members of those organisations Benes decreed
had aided the Nazis in their tyranny. Partisans also listened to denunciations
from local Czechs before they struck. The rich were particularly vulner¬
able. Also susceptible were doctors, grocers, butchers and publicans, and
anyone who might have denied credit, or schnapps. In many places all
Germans were considered guilty. In other places the action was coloured by
some German outrage. In Littau near Iglau, the German-speaking pocket
south of Prague, the Waffen-SS had torched the Czech village ofjavoricka
in March 1945. The partisans responded by driving the Germans into a
foresters house and the Schloss and murdering them. 55

In Landskron the fighting stopped on the 9 May. The Russian liberators
were chiefly interested in the townswomen, whom they pursued into the
night. There were few Czechs to speak of, and they were mainly con¬
cerned to protect their own property from plunder. This idyll changed
when on the 17th some lorry-loads of armed Czech partisans arrived. All
the male German inhabitants were hunted into the main square. By the
early afternoon there were as many as a thousand. The Czechs amused
themselves by drilling them, forcing them to he down and get up, all the
while walking among them, spitting and kicking them in the groin and
shins. Those who fell during this humiliation were taken to a water tank
and drowned. Any who bobbed up were shot. Meanwhile a ‘People’s
Court’ had been established with a jury composed of local Czechs. The
Germans had to crawl to the bench. Most of the men then had to run a
50—60 metre gauntlet. Many fell and were beaten to pulp. The next day the

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survivors were reassembled. One man was strung up from a lamppost.
The court adjourned only when a horrified woman set fire to her house
which threw the crowd into a panic. Twenty-four Germans had been
killed. An even greater number committed suicide.

Brno Death March

Brno was another German enclave. Before the Great War it was considered
to be a ‘suburb of Vienna’. 56 Even with the post-war migration it con¬
tained 60,000 Germans, and there were many more between Brno and the
border. The Russians reached the city on 25 April. There followed the
usual scenes of rape and violence. The next morning all Germans had to
report for work. Czech partisans established their HQ in Kaunitz College,
where the city’s leading Germans were beaten and tortured. Sometimes
they were forced to go on all fours and bark like dogs. When the Czechs
had finished with them they were delivered to the hospital, where they
were thrown into a cellar. A Red Cross nurse examined a German who
had indescribable wounds to his genitals. Before he died he was able to
explain his crime: he had sold vegetables to the Gestapo. 57

At 9 p.m. on 30 May began the Brno Death March. It was the Feast of
Corpus Christi, normally a day for solemn processions, and the largely
Catholic Germans did not fail to draw comparisons. The 25,000 marchers
had fifteen minutes to pack a bag and to assemble in the Convent Garden,
where they spent the night. At dawn they were driven into the courtyard
and relieved of their valuables before marching to the camp at Raigern in
the pouring rain. The procession included inmates of the old people’s
home, the hospitals and the children’s clinic and one Englishwoman who
had been married to a local Nazi. Her case naturally excited the interest of
the Daily Mail correspondent Rhona Churchill, who filed a story on 30
May. 58

Stragglers were beaten with truncheons and whips and those who failed
to get up were shot and their bodies stripped and plundered. Survivors
were strip-searched before being driven on to a camp at Pohrlitz, about
halfway to the Austrian border. 59 The Red Cross nurse claimed that a
thousand had already died. Another said that the camp claimed a further
1,700 lives. One mother recounts that two of her three children died on the
march. 60 The marchers were lodged in a car factory. The younger women
were raped by the guards. Those still capable of walking were pushed on to
the border the next morning, leaving behind about 6,000, who were

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thrown into grain silos. The Red Cross nurse stayed with them, and her
reports do not make pleasant reading. It may be that some of the atrocities
committed have been exaggerated in retrospect, but there is more than
enough corroboration to make it clear that the Czechs behaved with in¬
human cruelty.

The Pohrhtz camp was evacuated on 18 June. Sixty to seventy people
had been dying daily, largely from typhus. Nutrition consisted of stale
bread and rotten root vegetables. The Russians came every night at 7.30
and stayed until 2 a.m. They raped the women, even a seventy-year-old.
When the Red Cross nurse tried to protect a tender eleven-year-old, she
herself was taken away to ‘suffer the consequences’ and was raped by five
soldiers. Another witness said that the youngest raped was seven years old,
the oldest eighty. Some of the healthier ones escaped and made their own
way to the border. It was evidently desired that Brno should be free of
Germans in time for Benes s five-day visit in July. As it happened, the
Czechs had failed to round up all the Germans, while others who had
broken down on the march were returned to the city. When Benes arrived
they were forced out into the sand dunes without food or water. Many
died, others went mad. 61

The first to leave Pohrlitz were the sick, who were driven away and
dumped in the marshes by the River Thaya on the Austrian border. No
one knew they were there and according to the Red Cross nurse they
starved to death. The corpses were photographed and shown in newsreels
in Britain and the United States. The Czechs responded by saying that
they had been killed by the Austrians. There was another massacre at
Nikolsburg, where the bodies of 614 men were thrown into a mass
grave. 62

Iglau and Kladno

The German-speaking pocket around Iglau (Jihlava) in western Moravia
was also a sore subject for the Czechs. When the town fell on 5 May it was
the signal for a mass suicide of Germans: as many as 1,200 took their lives,
and perhaps 2,000 were dead by Christmas. Between six and seven thou¬
sand Germans were driven into the camps Helenental and Altenberg.
When Helenental was closed, the inhabitants were plundered and herded
south towards the Austrian border. Some 350 people are said to have lost
their lives on the way. They were detained in another camp in Stannern
where hundreds more perished. 3

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The Germans in Kladno were subjected to the full severity of the
Revolution from 5 May onwards. Erika Griessmann’s father was taken
away and never returned. She herself was beaten for refusing to tell the RG
where the family jewellery was buried. A few days later she saw Germans
being chased across a field like hares, gunned down by partisans with sub¬
machine guns. Her family was thrown out of their house on the 9th and
made to run the gauntlet down their street while the crowd lashed out at
them. She spotted some of their neighbours weeping at their windows at
the sight.

They joined a group of refugees. Many of them were bloody, after
Czechs had hurled grenades into their midst. For the second time the
seventeen-year-old Erika heard that she and the better-looking Germans
would be raped by the Russians. They apparently had first refusal. The
Russians, however, treated her well. She fainted, and was pulled into a car
by the hair. She woke on a sofa bound hand and foot. Five high-ranking
Soviet officers asked her if she were hungry, and where she wanted to go.
She said she wanted her mother. They took her to the football stadium
where she found her mother and younger brother.

After threatening to shoot them all, Czechs took the Germans to
Masshaupt where they had to stand in a ditch while a crowd spat on them
and pelted them with stones. They were then returned to the football sta¬
dium on a lorry. There were German soldiers lying all around with
bullet wounds in their stomachs and heads. Erika’s party were strip-
searched and taken to a barracks. Bodies were strewn everywhere, even
small children whose parents had cut their throats to save them from fur¬
ther tortures.

On the 10th they prepared to march. Before the gates of the barracks a
jeering crowd had assembled. A Czech read a speech: all Germans were
criminals. Hand grenades were once again tossed among the refugees, pro¬
ducing another bloodbath. A Czech priest appeared to administer the last
rites. Many of the dying refused his blessing. Erika and her mother man¬
aged to get into an ambulance and someone gave Erika a Red Cross nurse’s
hat. Russian sentries accompanied the German wounded as they left
Kladno. One of the Russians recognised that Erika was no nurse and
demanded she go with him. The injured in the ambulance took her side.
He then requested either Erika or their watches. The heavily wounded
German soldiers gave the Russian their watches and rings and Erika was
bought free. That way they reached comparative safety in the American-
occupied zone. 64

CHAOS

The American Zone

It was the Americans rather than the Russians who liberated western
Czechoslovakia. Whatever the Bohemian Germans might have wanted to
believe, however, the Americans did not meddle in the activities of Czech
partisans. The most that can be said is that the expulsions from their zone
were generally more humane than those that took place east of the line. 65
They finally left in December 1945.

One woman did however report that Americans helped her cross the
border; in another instance a woman was returned to Brno from Germany
as a Czech national, and as a German had to suffer the consequences. In
Bory Prison in Pilsen, the torture stopped when the Americans came to
inspect, and started again the next day. The writer Ernst Jiinger had a letter
from his friend Sophie Dorothea Podewils on 10 October 1945. She had
been in the Pilsen prison. ‘What took place in the German and also in the
Hungarian part of Czechoslovakia is a tragedy that is only comparable to
what the Jews had to bear here.’ 66

In Mies near Marienbad, Czech partisans and American soldiers
searched German houses together. Later the partisans shot twenty-five
Germans in their camp. Elbogen (Habartov) was the seat of the Control
Commission, which granted permission to Czechs to cross to the other
Allied zones, but its decisions were not always respected by the partisans. 67
Franz Weinhand was picked up by the militia in Gfell and taken to the
castle in Elbogen. He and his fellow Germans screamed so loudly during
their whippings that they began to annoy the American sentries a hundred
metres away. One of them fired his machine gun at their window. Two days
later members of the American Commission arrived at the castle and took
photographs of the Germans’ naked bodies. Weinhand and the others
dared not say a word for fear of reprisals. After four weeks the Americans
took the political prisoners to Landshut in Bavaria. In September they were
sent back to Czechoslovakia. 6 *

In Schlackenwerth a German clockmaker called Muller was tortured to
death. He came from the resort of St Joachimsthal (Jachymov), where a
Herr Steinfelsner, the owner of a sawmill, was hanged before the town hall
in the presence of the townsfolk. The body hung there until some
Americans came by in a jeep and forced the partisans to take it down. 69 In
Bischofteinitz (Domazlice) the usual scenes occurred when the men were
rounded up. Thirty-five of them were called out and butchered. In Blatna
a girl who had dallied with the Americans even had her head shaved after

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their departure. The Americans were also in Chodau (Chodov), where the
luggage of departing Germans were plundered almost as systematically as
they were across the border in Poland. 70

There were Czechs working and living in German areas, and Germans in
the towns which lay in the middle of largely Czech areas. Ceske Budejovice
or Budweis in south-western Czechoslovakia was in the Czech heartlands.
Until the nineteenth century the Germans had dominated the town. There
was still an active minority in 1945, who were put to work in the mines.
Most of the atrocities took place around the labour exchange. Large num¬
bers of Czech women cheered as the Germans were beaten bloody. The
priest, Pater Joseph Seidl, was one of them — he had apparently committed
no other crime than being German. The beds in the military hospital were
taken over by the Czechs. One severely wounded soldier was given a lethal
jab. SS men aged between eighteen and twenty-one were dragged into the
courtyard and beaten to death. In Pilsen, another largely Czech city, Franz
Wagner, a former communist who had spent a term in Dachau, was robbed
and beaten up before being expelled from the country. 71

Freudenthal, Freiwaldau and Bilin

Reports indicate that Czechs particularly loathed German innkeepers and
physicians. Innkeepers perhaps looked down on Czech customers, and
physicians either refused to treat Czechs or were suspected of being
involved in Nazi genocide. Carl Gregor was a general practitioner in
Freudenthal (Bruntal) in the north-eastern sector of the Czech lands. He
was taken to the Freudenthal camp and accused of having murdered 150
foreigners. He laughed off the accusation, and was tortured by eighteen
men who beat his back so badly that the skin burst on his buttocks.

In Freudenthal all the inmates had to witness the executions, which
took place behind the barrack block. Gregors knowledge of Czech and
Slovak meant that he had to translate the orders given by the commandant.
On one occasion twenty men had to dig their own grave and then climb
in. They were shot in the back of the head. One man had to be shot three
times, yet he was still alive when the prisoners filled in the grave. The
excuse for this slaughter was an accident with a grenade that killed a
Russian. The Czechs then told the Russians that the death had been the
result of a German-laid time-bomb and demanded that a hundred hostages
be shot in reprisal. The Russians allowed them to kill just a score. 72

In Freiwaldau (Jesenik) they marched the camp inmates to the border

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CHAOS

and pushed them into Germany. The ordeal took seventy-two hours,
while the Germans were beaten with whips and pistol butts. 73 Alfred Latzel
was the proprietor of a large sugar refinery and farm. On 20 June he was
dispossessed and warned that he would have problems were he to remain
in Czechoslovakia. He felt he had done no wrong and decided to brave it.
He was taken in for a short interview by the local police, at the end of
which he was delivered to the Camp II Jauernig — a former RAD or
Reichsarbeitsdienst camp. Latzel learned much later that he had been
incarcerated because he had allegedly denounced communists during the
Third Reich. He denied it. At Jauernig, the gaoler was a German com¬
munist. German denouncers were also present at the torture sessions
egging on the others.

After four days Latzel was taken to another camp in an old work-service
barracks at Adelsdorf, a former POW compound. Here his father-in-law,
the estate owner Dr Erich Lundwall, was the representative for the pris¬
oners. The partisan guards wore old SS uniforms, although they sported
red stars in their caps together with the letters KTOF - Koncentracni
Tabor Okres Fryvaldov (Concentration Camp Area Freiwaldau). The same
legend hung over the door of the camp, but later this was changed first to
‘internment camp’, then ‘collection point for internees’. The restructuring
of the Freiwaldau camps by the authorities in Prague was not popular
with the partisan guards. In the period of the wild camps, the partisans not
only wielded power, but allegedly amassed quantities of valuables, food and
drink, some of which might have been intended for the prisoners. New
arrivals were worked over by the guards, beaten with whips and rifle butts.
Latzel describes two boys of fifteen or sixteen who tried to escape and were
brought back to the camp by their own communist fathers. They were
slowly tortured to death after swastikas were carved into their buttocks.
They were finally shot in front of two prisoners chosen from each hut. A
Nazi greengrocer was selected for special treatment. He eventually van¬
ished. It was assumed he had been killed. The guards also enjoyed
whipping a seventy-year-old man. After each stroke he had to say ‘Dekuji!’
(Thank you!). 74

Once the camps were taken over by the regular gendarmerie, the bru¬
tality was moderated, if never exactly stopped. The bourgeois Latzel was
given unusual work to do outside the camp. He ploughed the fields and
worked in the woods and factories; he plundered farms and factories and
dismantled machines. Nothing was ever entered in an inventory. The food
improved with time. To a diet of dried-potatoes-and-water soup un¬
believable delicacies were added: vegetables and pearl barley and, once a

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week, meat. Every now and then there was jam, and cakes at Christmas.
Eventually there was even a visit from a priest, though he was not allowed
to deliver a homily, and some amateur dramatics were permitted, as well as
a cabaret. Some mild, anti-Nazi propaganda appeared, such as an obituary
for the Third Reich that was intended to be witty. The Nazi Karl Froning
thought it tasteless and silly. When they were shown films of the Nazis’ vic¬
tims they thought they were falsified (a common enough reaction at the
time) — ‘most of us had seen enough of these atrocities ourselves and suf¬
fered them on our own bodies’.

There was a third camp for men in the Freiwaldau area at Thomasdorf;
a fourth, Biberteich, housed around 300 women. Karl Schneider spent a
gruelling fourteen and a half months at Thomasdorf after he was accused
of shooting a Czech. He was tortured and had the usual beating from
another prisoner, Franz Schubert from Niklasdorf. Schubert did not hit
him forcibly enough and was clouted so hard as a result that he fell dead to
the ground. The same night the Czechs killed two others after hours of
torture. One of them was a boy of fifteen or sixteen. The commandant
greeted the new arrivals with the usual smashing of heads and limbs. When
one was seen to bleed profusely he remarked, ‘German blood is no blood,
it is pig’s shit!’ The commandant’s name was Wiesner, which suggests he
might have had some of that non-blood himself.

The Pg and SA member Karl Froning was the former administrator of
Thomasdorf in the days when it had contained Russians. He seems to have
fared reasonably well by comparison to others, possibly because some of the
Czech passion was spent by the time he arrived in the camp in July. He
remembered the Czech lessons in the open air, calculated to humiliate
Germans who had always refused to learn that language. Effusions of vio¬
lence were not unknown, however, and the guards had a particular animus
towards a Freiwaldau physician called Dr Pawlowsky, who was obliged
not only to he in his own excrement, but to consume it too. He eventu¬
ally collapsed before his torturers and died. In four weeks, Froning
estimated, some 10 per cent of the 200 inmates died from one cause or
another. 75

In Bilin (Bilina), north-west of Prague, they had the good fortune to be
taken directly to the border without being subjected to a Czech camp.
Anton Watzke nonetheless saw appalling scenes along the way with the
Czech soldateska killing German women. They even shot the priest. In
another instance the witness Adolf Aust remembered seeing a man shot
who had paused to relieve himself. 76

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Briix, Saaz, Komotau, Aussig and Tetschen

It was the Poles who liberated the town of Tetschen (Deem) in the north
on io May. For five days they raped, looted, torched and killed. A grocer
was taken off to the water tower and thrown in. They shot at him and
missed. Finally one of the Poles fished him out, saying he had done well
and his life was saved. The Poles reportedly killed scores of POWs; the rest
were taken to the camp at Jaworczno where they were sent down the
mines. Other Sudeten Germans were deported to Glatz in Silesia, which
had been awarded to the Poles. Here they went through their agonies all
over again until they were re-expelled with the Silesian Germans — this
time to the new slimmed-down ‘Reich’.

According to Franz Limpacher, there was just one Czech in his village
of Kleinbocken: Stanislaus Mikesch had moved there from Kladno, married
a German girl and become a great enthusiast for Hitler. After the arrival of
the Poles he re-emerged wearing a good many red stars and announced
that he was now the local commissar. He immediately confiscated his
neighbours belongings. More Czechs arrived from Prague, Tabor and
Pardubice and took over the houses of the Germans. 77

In the small town of Briix (Most) near by, Dr Carl Grimm was attached
to the Czech police as a doctor for Germans. He said Briix had 30,000
inhabitants, of whom two-thirds were Germans. Some of the worst raping
and pillaging was carried out by Russian DPs who had been brought in to
work at a local dam. Part of Grimm’s work was to certify the causes of
death, and he therefore took note of the number of suicides in the months
of May, June and July. At its high point, some sixteen Germans committed
suicide daily, often entire families. Few could shoot or gas themselves as the
Germans had been obliged to hand over their weapons and their gas had
been cut off. Most had hanged themselves from whatever convenient perch
they could find for that purpose. Grimm thought the total number of sui¬
cides amounted to between 600 and 700 — about 3 per cent of the German
inhabitants.

Grimm’s work with the local police delayed his imprisonment. The
other Briix men were taken off to a camp at Striemitz, half an hour away
on foot, while the women were taken to the Poros glassworks in Briix
itself, from which a thousand were eventually marched to the German
border at Deutschneudorf. Some of the men were put to work in the
mines and at the hydrogenation works. Others were taken to
Concentration Camp 28 at Maltheuren. 78 Germans who worked in heavy

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EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

industry were often protected by the Russians who requisitioned the fac¬
tories. When the factories were handed over to the Czechs, the Germans
who worked there were put into Camp 27. German mine directors were
shot: Czechs had been forced to work there during the war.

Householders were simply at the mercy of Czechs who appeared at the
doors and forced them out. Apart from a thirty-kilo suitcase (which would
be stolen from them anyhow), they were allowed to take nothing with
them. The Czechs were protected by soldiers who then took the Germans
off to ‘evacuation camps’ like Negerdorfel in Briix, which had formerly
been an anti-aircraft barracks. Some of them were quickly invalided out to
Gennany.The worst treatment was naturally meted out to former Nazis,
together with the owners of important buildings or impressive houses.
They were either taken to Camps 27 and 28 or locked up in the barracks,
the police HQ, the local court or Striemitz. Once again the men had to
box one another, with the guards standing by to make sure they hit hard.

The terror in Briix started late, on 1 August. The rest of the German
men were rounded up, beaten and marched off to Camp 28. Grimm gives
a full list of the camps in the borough of Briix: 17/18 and 31/32 near
Maltheueren, Rossel camp and Camp 37 near Briix itself, 22/25 at
Niedergeorgenthal and 33/34 at Rosenthal. These camps provided work¬
ers for the hydrogenation works, which normally employed 35,000
workers. There were also camps for the mines, which employed a further
25,000, but Grimm didn’t know their names. He estimated that there were
around thirty camps in all in that part of Czechoslovakia. During the war,
the mines and the dams had been staffed by foreign workers — Dutch,
French, Italians, Croats, Bulgarians, Poles, Ukrainians and Russians. Now
they were to be replaced by Germans.

Grimm himself was in Tabor — or Camp* — 28, with a fluctuating popu¬
lation ranging from 500 to 1,400 souls. The inmates were not just from the
local towns and villages of the Sudetenland; there were Germans from the
Reich too and Hungarian Germans. The camp was made up of wooden
huts, with around thirty men to a cell. The fury of the Russians and
Czechs had not abated. In the interests of maintaining health, fifteen men
who were suffering from tuberculosis were shot. Beatings were a matter of
course and the work was gruelling enough: eighteen hours a day at the
hydrogenation works with six hours’ sleep. Work was a two-hour march
away, and a two-hour slog home. The march was all part of the planned
humiliation. It was led by two ‘court jesters’, one wearing a top hat and the

* Not to be confused with the town of Tabor.

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other a Prussian Pickelhaube. The prisoners with white swastikas and ‘KT
28’ on their backs had to sing German nationalist songs. One of the jesters
came to a sticky end when the ‘Kadle’ (commandant) Vlasak tried to
shoot through the top of his hat as a joke, and hit him in the head by mis¬
take. When he was laid out in his coffin he was found still to be alive and
was shot two more times through the heart.

‘Kadle’ Karel Vlasak liked to be called ‘Tgyr’ or ‘Tiger’. The prisoners
had their own name for him: ‘The Beast of 28’. He walked around the
camp with a revolver in one hand and a nagaika or cat-o’-nine-tails in the
other. He liked to strike the prisoners with his entire forearm. When they
fell, as many did, he would kick them in the stomach and the testicles. His
compatriots cheered at the sport. Eduard Kaltofen recounts a story of his
beating a crippled solder to death with his own crutch. On another occa¬
sion four men had to prepare their own coffins before they received a shot
in the back of the head. Vlasak was later arrested — not because of his
behaviour towards the prisoners, but because he had taken property from
them and not handed it over to higher authorities. 79

The occupation of the famous hop town of Saaz (Zatec) and nearby
Postelberg (Postoloprty) followed similar lines. On 9 May the liberating
Russian armies raped and shot a few of the overwhelmingly German citi¬
zenry. Some Germans hanged or poisoned themselves, others vanished.
The Russians were replaced by Czech soldiers under General Svoboda on
2 June. In the meantime, the locals had been praying that the Anglo-
Americans would step in to create some sort of equitable division between
the Czechs and the Germans. That never happened. On the 3rd it was
decided to rid Saaz of its Germans. Before the war there had been some
16,000 people in the town. Five thousand men and boys were herded into
the market square. Anyone who struck the Czechs as unusual was savagely
beaten. The men were then marched off to Postelberg fifteen kilometres
away, where the population had already been evacuated. The journey took
two hours. If a man collapsed he was shot — boys in front of their fathers,
fathers in front of the boys. The Saazer males were installed in an old bar¬
racks building. Another 150 men were left behind in Saaz Prison where
they were subjected to more sophisticated brutality. They were taken off to
Postelberg later that day, leaving only the anxious womenfolk behind. 80

The following day there was a small-scale massacre in the Postelberg
Barracks. A detail was formed to bury the dead in gravel ditches that
would from now on serve as the camp latrine. The men were then robbed
of any valuables they had about them. Later a detail went through the pris¬
oners to locate doctors, pharmacists, priests, members of the important

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professions, useful skilled workers, half-Jews, men married to Jews and any
former inmates of German camps. They were transferred to the camp in
Saaz.

The hoi polloi spent the night in the stables. In the morning the doors
were opened with a cry of ‘Rychle, rychle!’ (Quick, quick!). Those who
tarried were gunned down. The dead and wounded were tossed into the
latrine. The remaining men were sifted politically. All members of the SS,
SA, Nazi organisations, the Wehrmacht and the National Socialist Party
had to come forward. The shootings continued throughout the day and
night. Five boys of around fifteen who had tried to escape were beaten
bloody with whips and executed before the eyes of the others.

The survivors, numbering perhaps 275, were crammed back into the
stables. It was four days before they received any bread and by then some
had gone out of their minds. When the doors were finally opened, one of
the men emerged stark naked and pranced around like a ballet dancer. A
German captain begged the chief torturer, Police Captain Marek, for the
right to die like a soldier. Marek made him kneel down to shoot him in the
back of the head. He fired and missed. The German officer turned and
said, ‘Shoot better!’ Marek took two more attempts to finish him off. 81

For the former soldier Ottokar Kronen from Komotau (Chomutov),
the Russians were sweetness and light compared to the Czechs. Returning
from the army on 7 May, he found the town occupied by Russian soldiers.
They assured him they would not be staying long and allowed him to take
away some clothes. When he discovered that his bicycle had been stolen
while he was inside, the Russian major commandeered a motorcycle from
another Russian and gave it to him, together with a laissez-passer in
Russian. Kremen then went to his sister-in-law’s house in the nearby vil¬
lage of Gersdorf. He was not alone in finding the Russian soldiers more
understanding than the Czechs. Dr Siegel in Theresienstadt said the
Russians were often ‘notably more decent’. A Russian doctor treated the
wounds of those that came out on work details and helped others to flee.
Siegel used to tell girls who wanted to escape the misery of the nightly
rapes to make friends with a Russian and clear off with him. 82

Nearly a month later, at the beginning of June, the Czechs came to
Gersdorf and arrested Kremen. He was interrogated and asked whether he
had been in the SS, the SA or the Party, all of which he denied. The
Czechs seized the motorbike and everything else they could find and took
him to an inn where he had to box other Germans. Then he was escorted
to the former Hotel Weimar in Komotau where he was locked up in a
room with sixteen others, including an eleven-year-old boy who was later

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shot with his father, the owner of the local bell foundry. They were taken
from the hotel-prison to the camp that had been set up in the former
Komotau State Farm. As they left, a Czech held a bust of Adolf Hitler and
they were told to salute it. Kremen heard one Czech say to another that
anyone who made the so-called Hitler Greeting would be shot. Kremen
told the others and no one raised their hands. At the camp they had to
strip. Any good clothing was carted off and they were given rags that had
belonged to those who had already perished; very often they were covered
in blood. Kremen was led to a large room with seventy-eight other men.
They were drilled all day — including men of eighty. Anyone who did not
march properly was beaten.

Kremen found his knowledge of Czech useful. He was able to take over
the drilling, and at his own request he taught the prisoners Czech, which
meant they could sit down for a while. The SS and SA members were
later picked out, beaten up and shot. The other men had to clean up the
yard and scatter sand on the blood. The survivors were then sent to
the ‘infamous’ concentration camp in the former French POW camp at
Maltheuren. But Kremen and a few others were spared. They were
put in the old glassworks: him, a doctor called Lockwenz, an engineer,
an Austrian who was known to have shown goodwill towards Czechs,
a Yugoslav, a staff captain from the Czech army and a local postman. The
Austrians and the Yugoslavs were sent home. Meanwhile the glassworks
filled up again with more Germans, so that the inmates totalled 360 men
and eight women. A lot of local worthies were among them: directors
of local industries, including the sausage maker, who was later beaten to
death, a priest and a gamekeeper, who also perished. They were put
to work on the railways, with Kremen as interpreter. While he was at
work, Kremen met a young Czech railwayman who had been offered a
three-room flat in Komotau. He had refused. He didn’t want someone
else’s flat. ‘Where will it all lead?’ he said. ‘I am not going to take any of the
flats here, they have all been stolen.’ 83

Back in the camp the beatings and torture continued. One Latvian
could hardly make himself understood, as he knew little German and less
Czech. He claimed that his membership of the SS was an accident. He was
shot. A German colonel who had served in the Czech army until 1924 was
beaten to death. A geometer who had a Polish-sounding name also died a
hideous death. There had been little love lost between the Czechs and the
Poles since 1938, when the Poles had seized the moment of the Czech
diplomatic defeat to march into the Tetschen area and appropriate it.

Kremen had been lucky he was not in Komotau when they celebrated

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EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

the Revolution there. All the men aged between thirteen and sixty-five
were made to assemble in the square. There were between five and six
thousand in all. The area was then cordoned off. The men had to remove
their upper garments to see if there were the usual SS markings. Anyone
found to have the tattoo was stripped naked and beaten to pulp. One
young, blond boy put up a fight. They prized open his legs and destroyed
his genitals before beating him to death.

The survivors were marched out through Gorkau, Eisenberg and
Kunersdorf. On the way they passed a half-dead local official who had
been strapped to a telegraph pole. They spent three nights in
Gebirgsneudorf before moving on to Bribe and Maltheuern. Here they
were given their first food for four days. The Germans worked in the
hydro-electric works. When the anniversary of Lidice came round the
camp commandant personally slaughtered the Komotau optician and his
two sons and another boy in front of one another. Germans were forced to
beat each other up. Their Calvary came to an end when 250—300 of them
were sent to Germany in August 1945. 84

The Czechs indulged in a little orgy of shooting in the small town of
Duppau near Kaaden (Kadan). First they shot the soldier Franz Weis and
threw his body on to the town square; shortly afterwards it was the turn of
two SS men who had been invalided out of the army, Josef Wagner and
Franz Mahr. The headmaster of the secondary school, Andreas Draht, and
his assistant teachers, Damian Hotek, Franz Wensich and Rudolf Neudorfl,
were next in line. The Czechs then turned their attentions to the chief
postmaster, Karl Schuh. The men who carried out this little massacre were
Captain Baxa and Lieutenant Tichy. In the village of Totzau close by they
killed thirty-four Germans because they found arms, although permission
to keep them had apparently been granted by the American Army
Command in Karlsbad. In another place they shot the wife of the roofer
Holzknecht because she looked out of the window at the wrong moment.
In Podersheim they killed the farmer Stengl, and another eighty Germans
were massacred in the Jewish cemetery. None, according to the witness
Eduard Grimm, was associated with the Nazis. Josef Jugl was accused of
being a Werewolf, and hauled off to the camp at Kaaden. On the way the
Czech guard took pity on him. ‘Kaaden Prison bad,’ he said, ‘you still
young.’ He told him to scarper, and Jugl did. 85

On 30 July there was an explosion in Aussig (Usti nad Labem). The
Svoboda Guards had arrived that night in the town, forcing the Germans
to wear white armbands and walk in the gutter. About 300 young men
from Prague turned up. At about 3.30 a.m. the eyewitness heard a terrible

CHAOS

bang, and thought a cupboard might have fallen over. He climbed on the
roof and saw smoke billowing from somewhere behind the Marienberg: it
was a huge ammunition dump, filled with captured German weapons.
Later the Germans were accused of having sabotaged it. He went out on to
the street. Luckily he wore no armband, for the explosion was also the
signal to attack the Germans with whatever weapons came to hand. As the
town commander allegedly put it: ‘Now we will start the revolution against
the Germans.’ He saw men and women with prams thrown twenty metres
off the bridge into the Elbe and then shot at by the SNB guards with
machine guns. Any that managed to reach the bank were beaten with iron
bars. Eventually some Russian soldiers succeeded in clearing the streets and
a curfew was established. About 400—1,000 people had been killed. 86

Anti-fascists did not necessarily have any advantages. As one Czech
told Herbert Schernstein, ‘Nemec jest nemec’ (A German is a German).
Schernstein had just returned to his home town after seven years in con¬
centration camps as a communist. He had endured Theresienstadt,
Sachsenhausen and Ravensbriick. His friend Willi Krebs, who had been
the founder of the Prodlitz Communist Party, had been robbed of his
shop. 87 Near Aussig were the concentration camps Lerchenfeld and
Schobritz. Heinrich Michel was actually working as a policeman for the
newly appointed police director Douda when he was arrested on 16 May.
Douda was a Muscovite who had been employed in the local gym. He had
gone to Russia in 1938 and therefore had the complete confidence of the
new regime. After insulting Michel, he had him thrown into a cell in the
courthouse prison with a painter, a gunsmith, a lawyer and others. On the
second day the cell began to fill up. One man brought a ‘bestial stench’
with him. It soon became clear why: he was seeping excrement from his
trouser legs to his collar. When they undressed him they found no appre¬
ciable part of his body that was not covered in blood. He had been caught
trying to escape and suffered the consequences.

After drinking three-quarters of a bottle of schnapps, the lieutenant
commanding decided he would show them how to treat an SS man. The
doors to the cells were thrown open, including that housing the SS. He
chose Willi Kiinstner, an honorary member of the SS and personnel man¬
ager of the firm of Schicht, a major employer in Aussig. He was so badly
beaten that he had to be taken away to hospital where he died without
regaining consciousness. The courthouse gaol was the feeder for the local
concentration camps. Michel was taken to Lerchenfeld where he was
made a kapo. A former Luftwaffe camp that had been manned by
Hungarians and wrecked by the Russians during their advance, it was

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run by a Commandant Vrsa. All new arrivals had to sing the ‘Deutschland-
slied’ and SA songs while a picture of Hitler was paraded before them.
Then they had to run a forty-to-fifty metre gauntlet while they were
lashed with bullwhips. SA men received an extra twenty-five stripes on
the bottom.

With time the population of Lerchenfeld camp grew to 3,500. Michel
himself was severely beaten by a Czech guard. When he asked him why he
had treated him that way the guard said it was because he had once
reported him for stealing a cake when he was twelve years old. When the
Russians took over Lerchenfeld in October, the inmates were moved to
Schobritz. They had to build the camp themselves and that meant spend¬
ing the first night in the open air. In Bohmisch Leipa (now the ‘Czech’
Ceska Lipa), a camp was erected for around 1,200 Germans. In the savagery
of the Czech takeover the innkeepers of the area seem to have come out
badly, while the local Landrat or councillor had his face pushed in his own
excrement until he died from that and other beatings. Two hundred and
fifty-one prisoners perished within twelve months.

Theresienstadt

The most notorious camp in Czechoslovakia was Theresienstadt, the Nazis’
show camp where inmates had been required to purchase living space in a
‘model ghetto’. Many of Germany’s, Austria’s and Czechoslovakia’s most
famous or most talented Jews had been holed up within the eighteenth-
century walled town. They died in droves, either from neglect or when
they were shipped out to Auschwitz or Treblinka.

On 5 May 1945 Theresienstadt was taken over by the Red Cross. The
commandant, Karl Rahm, tried to escape and the last Jewish administrator
(the Jews had their own governing body) tendered his resignation. 88 A
typhus epidemic kept the prisoners in the ghetto for the time being. The
Czechs saw a new use for the citadel: it would be filled with Germans.
Some were put to work tending the sick Jews. On 24 May there was a
delivery of 600 Prague Germans of both sexes, including Red Cross sisters
from the clinics. They were taken to the Little Fortress about a kilometre
away from the fortified town. It had a long, dark history. It was here that
the murderers of Archduke Francis Ferdinand — Princip and Cabrinovic —
died in 1918. They had been too young for execution and had succumbed
to TB. 89 In Nazi times the Little Fortress had been largely devoted to
political prisoners. The SS had their amenities there, including a swimming

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pool and a cinema. In 1943 the Little Fortress was expanded with the con¬
struction of a fourth courtyard. The 600 Germans were taken there.

The prisoners were separated into four groups: men, youths, children
and women. The entrance was through a low archway covered with grass.
Once inside the dark tunnel leading to the cells the RG lashed out at the
men with truncheons, beating them to the ground. Anyone who failed to
get up was fertiggemacht (finished off). In the courtyard they had to run the
gauntlet. Those who fell were dealt with in person by the Camp
Commandant Alois Prusa, who beat in their kidneys. He was occasionally
assisted in his work by his daughter Sonja, a girl of around twenty.
Another source attests to his having two daughters, both equally brutal.
One boasted that she had killed eighteen Germans with her own hands.
Prusa s own viciousness might have been explained by the fact that he had
been detained in Theresienstadt by the Nazis. Another inmate, Eduard
Fitsch, maintained that the guards were all former concentration camp
prisoners.

Those who had been ‘finished off’ breathed their last in their own
appointed cell. Between fifty-nine and seventy of the 600 died in those
first few hours. Two hundred more succumbed in the next few days.
Prusa and his assistant Tomes did not give much hope to the survivors,
who were told that those who had entered the Little Fortress would never
leave it. All their papers, photographs and other — non-valuable — effects
were put on a heap and burned. The man who commanded the fourth
courtyard was a Pole called Alfred Kling. He claimed that he was an
expert in killing and could simply decide by the number of strokes how
long a victim would survive his beating. As he put it, ‘We have reduced
you to such a state in two months that the Gestapo would have needed
five years to achieve.’ 90

Dr E. Siegel, a Czech-speaking general practitioner working for the
Red Cross, was subjected to the full initiating ceremony. Not only was he
beaten, but there were attempts to dislocate his arm and break his bones.
A truncheon was placed in his mouth to knock out his teeth, and he was
told to confess he was a member of the SA — which he continued to deny.
When they had finished with him he was thrown on a concrete floor in a
pool of his own blood. There he lay for three days until a Czech ‘colleague’
visited him. This man picked him up by the hair and dashed him to the
ground again. He still failed to die. 91

Siegel was made camp doctor. Not that he could do much for the
moment. As a result of his torture he could neither stand nor sit. With his
left hand he needed to hold up his head, otherwise it fell on to his breast -

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so badly damaged were the muscles in his neck. His left eye functioned
only when he looked straight ahead, and he could hardly hear as a result of
the blows to his ears. His heart gave him trouble, but another doctor was
able to give him some injections. They were not short of medicaments —
according to Siegel, they lay in heaps around the former ghetto.

Once he was able to walk again, Siegel was ordered to kill a number of
allegedly elderly prisoners in Cell 50 by lethal injections as it would be a
pity to prolong their agonies. He tried to get out of the order, even going
so far as to hide the poison. In the account he wrote later, he says he was
saved by a visit to the camp by a Czech doctor who proposed the creation
of a typhus ward. Siegel was put in charge. It was set up in the old SS
cinema on 6 June. Later he had the chance to look into Cell 50 on his
rounds. He discovered its occupants to be aged between sixteen and eight¬
een, and apparently members of the SS. Many of them had freshly
amputated legs and dislocated joints. Their bandages had come off and
their stumps were septic. They were so thickly crammed into the cell that
their bodies touched. They begged for their dressings to be changed, but
Siegel was forbidden to touch them or mention that he had seen them, lest
he be locked up with them himself. He said that these miserable boys were
Prusa’s pride and joy, that he would literally jump around like a clown at
the sight of them — although he was careful to show them only to his spe¬
cial friends and not to the authorities from Prague.

The hundred or so children under twelve had a special building to
themselves. At first this was used for propaganda purposes as there was a
courtyard for them to play in and a place to hang out their washing.
Journalists were brought to the camp to see the children and note how well
they were treated. It was a case of history repeating itself: there was a
famous film produced by the Nazis in Theresienstadt, made to show the
outside world how humane it was. At the onset of winter, however, the
children were not so happy, because their quarters offered them little or no
protection from the cold.

Prusa maintained that everyone in the camp was a member of the SS or
the Gestapo. When the Russians expressed doubts about a number of boys
aged from twelve to fourteen, he replied that they were detained as the
children of SS or Gestapo men and that one of them had managed single-
handedly to kill eleven Czechs. A similar story was retailed by the Czech
Ministry of the Interior: Theresienstadt contained only SS, despite the fact
that half its inmates were women of ages ranging from suckling children to
one old lady of ninety-two. There were also a number of blind people who
had been brought to the Little Fortress from Aussig after the massacre.

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Much of the savagery stopped when Prusa was replaced by a Major Kalal,
who had no time for Germans but had, at least, a proper soldier’s dislike of
torture. 92

Pankrac

One September evening in Pankrac (Pankratz), Hans Wagner had a little
performance to distract him from his sufferings: public executions. A
gibbet was set up outside the prison. Children stood on the cars to get a
better view of the hangings and there was a crowd he estimated at some
50,000. After each execution they cheered.

The first in line was Professor Josef Pfitzner. He was followed by an SS
Gruppenfiihrer Schmidt from Berlin. Next came the lawyer Franz
Schicketanz, who had prepared the case for the Sudeten Germans pre¬
sented to the British mediator Lord Runciman in 1938. Then it was the
turn of Dr Blaschtowitschka of the German Special Court. His father, the
president of the Prague Senate, died of hunger a few days later. Among the
other victims that day were Dr Franz Wabra, who headed a unit for intern¬
al medicine at the hospital in Beraun, and an insurance official called
Stranek. The Czechs were killing some of their own collaborators: General
Blaha, the founder of the Society for Czech—German Friendship, together
with its president, Richtrmoc and its chief executive, Major Mohapl. The
first two were condemned to death. Mohapl was sent down for twenty
years.

The most prominent denizen of Pankrac was Karl-Hermann Frank.
Wagner saw him exercising in the yard every afternoon. The former
Reichsprotektor had been handed over by the Americans and was publicly
hanged on 22 May 1946. At the beginning of 1947, another group of
German Czechs were strung up: Ernst Kundt, Hans Krebs and Hans
Wesen. The leading doctor, Karl Feitenhansl, was sentenced to life impris¬
onment. The cases against Rudolf Jung and Dr Rosche were dropped -
both had already died from hunger in prison.

There were German Jews in Pankrac too. Dr Karl Loewenstein, once a
prominent Berlin businessman and former marine officer, had been in
charge of the Theresienstadt ghetto police. The Czechs accused him of col¬
laboration, assisting in the deportation of two Jewish policemen to
Auschwitz. Loewenstein remained fifteen months in the prison. He was cast
as a ‘typical Prussian officer’ who fulfilled his duties with an unbending zeal.
He remained in Pankrac despite letters of protest from the Jewish leader Leo

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EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

Baeck in London and others. He shared a cell with other Germans, chiefly
SS men. There was so little food that the prisoners ate grass and eggshells.
In March 1946 the Czechs finally decided that the accusations were
groundless: Loewenstein was simply a disciplinarian who had done more to
alleviate the sufferings of the Jews than to aggravate them. He was released
from Pankrac but not freed. He went to the camp at Leitmeritz
(Litomerice), where once again he was surrounded by the race that had
locked him up in the first place and slaughtered his friends and relations. He
was not released from his Czech captivity until January 1947. 93

Torture

Torture appears to have been the rule. In Prague, Johann Schoninger, who
had been based in London before the war, was hit with iron bars and had
nails driven into his feet. His assistant, Schubert, was beaten to death. In
Domeschau Johann Rosner had lighted matches pushed under his finger¬
nails. In Komotau, the torture seems to have been similar to the rack. A
Waffen-SS man’s penis and testicles had been so worked over that the
former had swollen to 8—9 cm thick and the latter were septic. The whole
area round to his anus was filled with pus and stank. In Theresienstadt one
woman observed a female SS member being forced to sit astride an SA
dagger: ‘I can still hear her screams.’ The chief torturers in the Little
Fortress were two guards named Truka and Valchar. Guards used a variety
of instruments for beating and lashing their victims: steel rods sheathed
with leather, Spanish pipes, rubber truncheons, iron bars and wooden
planks. In Klattau (Klatovy) one man had wooden wool soaked in benzene
put between his toes and set alight so that it burned his sexual organs.
Siegel thought they must have had orders from above, because the meth¬
ods used in all Czech camps were broadly similar. 94

The first time the activities of the Czech torturers ever came to court
was in Germany itself, with the trial of Jan Kouril, one of the most brutal
guards at Kaunitz College. Kouril had later been assistant commandant of
Kleidova camp. He made the mistake of trying to sell gold fillings to a
German dentist in Munich. The dentist recognised him as one of his tor¬
turers, and Kouril was tried and sentenced to fifteen years in prison by a
court in Karlsruhe. During the trial the grave-digger from the College gave
evidence that 1,800 bodies had been removed, including the corpses of 250
soldiers. While Kouril could find not one witness in his defence, 200 came
forward for the prosecution. 95

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In June 1945 a law was introduced to stop beatings in the camps. It was
not always heeded, but it alleviated some of the sufferings. The Czechs also
punished commandants and warders who overstepped the mark. By all
accounts this had less to do with the prisoners than with the pocketing of
their effects. Dr Siegel tells us, for example, that the ‘monsters’ Prusa and
his two daughters, as well as Kling and Tomes and others from
Theresienstadt, were tried in the court in Leitmeritz. 96

Expulsions

The end of the nightmare was the beginning of another: the march to
Germany or Austria. The deportations were sanctioned by Article 13 of the
Potsdam Accords, although it was stipulated that the expulsion of the civil¬
ian populations should take place in the most humane manner possible.
Hans Freund went to Dresden in the blistering heat of June 1945. No
water was provided and many of the older Germans died. 97

It went relatively smoothly for Margarete Schell, who found herself on
the same train as her mother and stepfather. She arrived in Hesse ‘a beggar,
homeless, outlawed — but free!’ They had been allowed to take just thirty
kilos of possessions with them (later this was increased first to fifty then to
seventy kilos) and were assigned to a numbered goods wagon. In each car
there was a little stove to warm them, but not enough room to he down.
Right up to the last moment there was a worry that the Americans were
not going to let them in. They were Czechs, not ‘Reich’ Germans after
all. 98

The expulsions did not cover all Germans. Some were left to rot in
Czech prisons. Alfred Latzel’s father-in-law, for example, was sentenced to
eighteen years by a People’s Court in Troppau, to be served in Miirau bei
Hohenstadt, a medieval castle once the most dreaded prison in the Austro-
Hungarian Empire. During the war it had been used to house Czechs and
Polish prisoners suffering from TB. The death rate had been alarmingly
high. Other Germans were retained after 1946 to work in the mines or
forests. The People’s Courts were painfully reminiscent of their namesakes
in Nazi Germany: justice was summary, death sentences ten a penny, life
imprisonment was an option, otherwise the culprit received five or ten
years in the mines. Max Griehsel had worked at the main office of the
DAF, the Nazi forced-labour organisation. He received a five-year sentence.
The trial was over in ten minutes. 99

The Sudeten communists, who had never supported Henlein and who

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EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

had suffered under the Nazis, fared no better. Like the new Poland,
Czechoslovakia would not suffer minorities (except Slovaks). About 10,000
of them were expelled. It was a rare example of a deportation that followed
the rules laid down at Potsdam. It was orderly and relatively humane. 100
Less so were the first organised shipments of non-communist Germans in
the summer of 1946: pictures show some of the 586,000 Bohemian
Germans packed in box cars like sardines. 101

The behaviour of the Czechs and Hungarians created more frustrations
for Lucius Clay. He was worried about the definition of ‘German’ in
February 1947, especially as a number of pure Czechs were seeking refuge
in the West to escape from the communist shadow that had been cast over
their country. The expulsions were suspended for a time. When the Soviet-
inspired communist coup took place in 1948, many Czechs followed the
path of the Germans across the border. They became refugees in their turn.
As Clay was quick to point out, they were ‘not loved in Germany’ as a
result of the expulsions. 103 From Hungary came ‘Swabians’, a development
which perplexed him.*

The process was revived on 1 September 1947 at a rate of twenty trains
arriving from Czechoslovakia every month. 103 At the end of the official
expulsions the Americans asserted that they had received 1,445,049 Czech
Germans to settle in their zone, of whom 53,187 were anti-fascists; the
Russians had accommodated 786,485, including 42,987 anti-fascists. The
rest came in dribs and drabs, as many were still held to work in the mines.
In 1950 the Czechs admitted to having 165,117 Gennan-speakers, but the
figure was probably somewhere between 210,000 and 250,000. The expul¬
sions had caused an economic crisis in Czechoslovakia. Despite the
pickings for the Czechs, whole villages remained empty and the fields
around lay fallow for want of labour. 104 It is thought that 240,000 Germans,
German Bohemians and Moravians died at the hands of the Czechs. 105

The Hungarians began to expel their Swabians on 1 November 1946.
The Germans were spread throughout the country and at first no one
thought of them as suspicious. Many were dragged off to Russia to work
in Siberia, along with Hungarian men - the Russians could not so easily
tell the difference. Then the minister president Bela Miklos decided that
the Germans would be sacrificed in the interests of better treatment for

* ‘Swabian’ is a Hungarian word for an ethnic German. In 1910 they had been nearly 10 per
cent of the population, but by the census of 1941 they were down to 4.8 per cent (719,449
people). The principle denominations were Bannater Schwaben, and Batschka-Deutsche
from the Balkan areas, as well as the Germans on the eastern side of the Neusiedlersee
around Odenburg (Sopron) and the Schwabische Tiirkei.

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Hungary. He would distance himself from his former German ally. A
wide-ranging land reform was instituted and Germans were interned, as
the Russians themselves had suggested in the spring of 1945. 106

In May 1945 the authorities in Hungary identified between 200,000 and
250,000 Germans they wanted to expel. They were to be allowed up to 100
kilos of luggage. The Americans had allotted them an area near
Wiirttemberg. The process continued until August 1946 when the
Hungarians began to lose interest and some Germans came out of hiding.*
Not all had been banished by any means. 107 The terrible winter led Clay
to suspend the process until the spring. Already 168,000 had settled in the
American Zone. The usual reports came in of their miserable state.
According to the American journalist James K. Pollack, they too had been
robbed down to their wedding rings and arrived wearing all the clothes
they possessed. 108 The number of refugees in the American Zone was
becoming a problem. Clay wanted to send some back across the
Oder—Neisse, but that was impossible. For six months of 1946 he had sus¬
pended the reception of ethnic Germans into the American Zone because
he did not feel the expulsions complied with Potsdam’s call for a ‘humane
and orderly’ resettlement. This was a double-edged sword, as it prolonged
the misery of the poor souls trapped in the east. 109

Romania was also ready to evict its 600-year-old German community
(there had been 745,421 German Romanian nationals in 1930). Border
changes at the so-called Adjudication of Vienna had shifted some of them
on to Hungary, but there were still over half a million Germans, mostly in
the Banat and the Siebenbiirgen. In one town, Brasov or Kronstadt on the
western side of the Carpathians, they formed a slender majority. Hitler had
already launched his plans to move them to the Reich, a scheme that had
its echoes in the policies of the Federal Republic after the war. The
Romanians were less harsh to their Germans than other central European
countries were, although they were briefly interned; they were well treated
on the whole. 110

There were also major expulsions from Yugoslavia, where there were
more than half a million Germans in the census of 1921. Many of these
were in Krain, which contained the German-speaking pocket of
Gottschee. The 35,000 Gottscheer had already fallen victim to Hitler’s
alliance with Mussolini, as the western half of Slovenia had been annexed

* They kept themselves aloof, generally in small communities such as Villany on the south¬
ern border, and rarely dared to speak German. In the authors experience many of their
children have only a rudimentary knowledge of the language now.

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EXPULSIONS FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA

by Italy in 1941. In the winter of 1941 to 1942 they had been resettled in
Lower Styria and in Carinthia in an instance of ‘ethnic rationalisation’.
Those Germans who remained behind in 1945 were pushed into camps
such as Gakavo, Krusevlje andjarek (the latter took in most of the Batschka
Germans), while Rudolfsgnad and Molidorfwere reserved principally for
Germans from the Yugoslav Banat. In Rudolfsgnad nearly two-thirds of the
30,000 or so inmates died of typhus. About 6,000 more died injarek. 111

Czechs continue to deny that any wrong was committed against the
German Bohemians after the war, but they have a word — odsun, ‘spiriting
away’ — which is used to describe the ridding of their land of Germans at
the time. There was no exchange but expulsion ‘without ifs or buts’. 112 It
is described not as an act of revenge, but as an ‘historic necessity’. There
were a few voices raised against the process at the time; notably two
Catholic papers Obzory and Lidove Listy and the journalist Helena
Kozeluhova, who was eventually required to emigrate. 113 Then came the
communists, and with a brief hiatus for the Prague Spring there was an
official silence about the matter. Some exiles from communism did men¬
tion it, however. One of these was the former minister Jaroslav Stransky,
the uncle of one of the Prague torturers, who had fled to London. Blame
was laid at the feet of the communists. 114

161

Home to the Reich! Recovered Territories
in the Prussian East

The recommendation that the expulsion of the German-speaking
people from Poland, Bohemia, Hungary and Rumania — about twelve
million in all - and their resettlement in the overcrowded ruins of
Western Germany should proceed in an ‘orderly and humane’ fashion
was somewhat reminiscent of the request of the Holy Inquisition that
its victims should be put to death ‘as gently as possible and without
bloodshed’.

Golo Mann, The History of Germany since 1789,
Harmondsworth 1987, 812

I f the expulsions from Czechoslovakia and the banishment of German
communities from other areas of east-central Europe involved transferring
huge numbers of people, they were a drop in the ocean compared to the
deportations from within Germany’s pre-1937 borders. For hundreds of years
Germans had lived east of the River Oder, sometimes in regions such as
Pomerania, East Prussia and Lower Silesia, where the population was almost
exclusively Teutonic, or in areas of mixed population such as Great Poland,
West Prussia and Upper Silesia. At Yalta the decision was made to award these
regions to Poland, with the exception of East Prussia, which was divided up
between the Russians and the Poles. The inhabitants faced an uncertain fate:
banishment by death march. It was the end of an ancient civilisation — of
hardy peasants, of German merchants and academics in their own quarters
and universities, of German nobles maintaining their culture in Slavic lands.*

* The list of those to be expelled runs to 16.5 million people: 9.3 million within the 1937
Reich borders and 7.2 outside. There were 2,382,000 East Prussians, 1,822,000 East
Pomeranians, 614,000 in Brandenburg east of the Oder, 4,469,000 Silesians, 240,000 in
Memel and the Baltic States, 373,000 in Danzig, 1,293,000 in Poland, 3,493,000 in
Czechoslovakia, 601,000 in Hungary, 509,000 in Yugoslavia and 785,000 in Romania. The
Russians were not planning to export their 1.8 million Volga Germans, but they were due
to be resettled.

HOME TO THE REICH!

Apologetic German historians are keen to point out that the Nazis had
provided their own precedent for the terrible deportations that followed
Germany’s defeat. Europe’s Jews had been ‘transferred’ to the so-called
General Gouvernement (the puppet state set up by the Germans in Poland)
or the Baltic States, where they were liquidated. In two instances of Hitler’s
pragmatism, the German-speaking population of the Baltic States had been
encouraged to come ‘home to the Reich’ to allow Stalin a free hand, and
the South Tyrolean and Gottschee Germans in Slovenia were also trans¬
ferred to allow Mussolini to consolidate his territory. Poland was to be
partly Germanised, above all in the Warthe and in Danzig—West Prussia.
Over a million Poles were resettled. 1

The Nazis aimed for the ‘creation of a racially, spiritually, nationally and
politically unified German population’. All those elements that could not
be Germanised had to ‘be ruthlessly swept away’. This was the nasty
idiom of the Treaty of Versailles, which championed nation states. The
idea had gained a doubtful respectability in the Bulgarian—Turkish
exchange of populations of 1913. Churchill expressed his approval in the
House of Commons in December 1944, saying that the expulsion of the
Germans was a satisfying and lasting means for ensuring peace. 2 The San
Francisco Conference at the end of 1944 made it clear that German
expellees were exempted from international aid. No one was to be
allowed to interfere. 3

The post-First World War regimes of the new east-central Europe had
all longed for racial purity, and to some degree persecuted their minorities.*
Whole villages had been emptied of Germans in West Prussia in the wake
of Versailles. Possibly because half of East Prussia was now Soviet property,
no effort was made to keep any of the Germans alive. There are striking
similarities between the way the population of East Prussia was handled and
the deliberate starvation of the Ukrainian kulaks in the early 1930s. The
rations received by East Prussians did not contain enough calories to sus¬
tain life. They were notably smaller than the already pitiful amounts of food
doled out to Berliners. 4

The East Prussian ordeal was to last until 1948, when trains brought the
last bedraggled remnants of the population into Berlin. Most would try to
forget what they had suffered in the intervening years — not just the bru¬
tality and rape, but also the plagues, disease and vermin that had been their
daily lot. Deprived of soap, they were as much the victims of lice as of their

* After the Second World War the Poles demanded the return of their countrymen in the
Ruhr, many of whom had lived there for generations.

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CHAOS

Soviet conquerors, and lice brought typhus. As no water was available, the
Konigsberger drank from infected wells and bomb craters and fed on spar¬
rows and mice when they could, or on discarded potato peelings and trash
from Russian kitchens; boiled ox bones and cattle pelts, glue and the car¬
rion of dead and buried animals.

Graf Lehndorff woke up in Soviet captivity on his thirty-fifth birthday,
13 April 1945. One of his fellow prisoners around the potato pot had a
piece of bacon that she shared with him. Despite the freezing cold of an
East Prussian spring this proved the calm before the storm. He spoke to
a Polish interpreter who had lived in Konigsberg for two years and had
made a decent living. He informed Lehndorff that he would be sent to
Moscow or Odessa to work in a Russian hospital. 5 The kid-gloves
approach was discarded within hours. Lehndorff learned that he had been
classified as ‘dangerous’. The women were taken off to be raped and the
men piled on top of one another in a hollow in the ground. It was bitterly
cold and there was still a good deal of snow about. ‘Cold is much worse
than hunger, in your wet things, you try as much as possible not to
move.’ The one consolation in the spectacle of burning buildings all
around him was that it aroused the thought of heat. The animals had all
been driven away or killed. The only ones that remained were a few half-
mad dogs. 6

The men were brought to their feet and together with the women
were marched along the road to Rauschen. In better days it had been a sea¬
side resort popular with people from Konigsberg. Hans Lehndorff took
advantage of the lackadaisical Russian guards and fled into the woods.
Once he had shaken off his pursuers he sat down and enjoyed a moment
of reflection. Less than a year before he had met his cousin Heinrich
Lehndorff, who had tried to convince him to join the opposition to Hider.
Graf Heinrich Lehndorff had been arrested after the July Plot, but like
Hans, had slipped away from his guards — in this case the Gestapo — and
gone on the run. He was ultimately betrayed, however, and hanged with
the others in Plotzensee Prison in Berlin. 7

Hans Lehndorff was also caught. He was put in a barn with a number of
old people, women and children. They were the remnants of the popula¬
tion from the villages within a twenty-kilometre radius. Their shoes were
worn through, their clothes in shreds, and they were covered in filth.
Many of the younger children had already died, but there was no time to
mourn — Lehndorff thought that that might be years in coming.
Meanwhile they looked after their surviving offspring as best they could.
The women were still prey to the Russians, who took them away from

HOME TO THE REICH!

their children and raped them in a house by the roadside. The Germans
were moved along. On the road to Rauschen, Lehndorff met a woman
pushing an old, blind man in a wheelbarrow. He didn’t like the Russians in
Rauschen; he wanted to go to Konigsberg. Lehndorff didn’t have the
heart to tell him it was worse there. 8

It was 20 April — the Fiihrer’s fifty-sixth and final birthday. Pillau had yet
to fall and was being subjected to a heavy artillery bombardment.
Lehndorff was taken to Rauschen. The prisoners were quartered in a
motor-repair workshop and taken off for interrogation. On the 21st the
Russians told Lehndorff to ‘Go home!’ He was not fooled: it would be
only a matter of time before they picked him up again. Where was home
anyway? He went to Palmnicken with a fifteen-year-old boy called
Helmut. The next day he was arrested again.

Lehndorff was taken to Rothenstein camp, a former barracks which had
come through the war unscathed. He was put in a hall containing some
3,000 other souls. He learned that the daily ration consisted of a cup of
groats and a slice of bread. There was no water. There were no latrines. His
neighbour made a little space for him and gave him two coffee beans. To
his relief someone recognised him and he was fetched and taken to the
doctors’ compound where he was looked after by the sister. She cleared up
the mystery of the lavatorial arrangements: it was the space between two
barracks blocks. Dysentery had broken out and many of the prisoners col¬
lapsed and died as they squatted in the alley. Once again Lehndorff
permitted himself a reflection: ‘to have lived one’s life and to croak in this
place, literally in the shit!’ 9

The dead were taken away and laid out before the guard post. When the
Russians began to worry that they too might catch the infection that had
killed the prisoners, they earmarked an area of the camp for the sick. On
the first night of the new arrangements, thirty-six people died. One was
found dead sitting on a bucket. The other prisoners descended on the dead
to strip them of their clothes, so it was difficult to establish their identity. 10
On the day that Hitler took his own life, Lehndorff delivered a camp
inmate of twins: ‘Life goes on, as it is so apdy said.’ Both children later died
of hypothermia. 11

The Russians were weeding out the Nazis by means of interrogation.
The big fish had either fled via Pillau or had committed suicide; what
remained was decidedly small fry. Confessions were beaten out of the
men, and many died. Those Pgs that survived were taken to holding camps
in Gumbinnen or Insterburg before being marched off to the Soviet
Union. Someone informed Lehndorff that there were a number of Old

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CHAOS

Masters being kept in a damp room in the camp, which would be ruined
if no one did anything about them. Lehndorff was unsympathetic: ‘Let
them be used for temporary window-panes, or find some useful end in an
oven.’ He was more impressed by the bravery of the women: ‘It is always
astonishing what man will put up with.’ That day he heard that the war was
over. 12

A daily grind set in at Rothenstein camp. Lehndorff was the doctor
once again, a man you needed. If you are wise you don’t kill the doctor. A
Russian woman came to him for treatment. She had also been raped, and
now she had VD. In gratitude she brought him food — margarine for the
potato soup. One woman he treated — known only as Wanda — had been
raped 128 times. They brought in an old man who was so covered in lice
that he looked like an ant-heap. He turned out to be the local railway
director. He died an hour later. 13

At the beginning of June, Lehndorff had a surprise visit from Doktora.
She was still working at the German hospital and nurtured plans to get her
friend out of Rothenstein to work alongside her once more. There were
a thousand Germans being treated in the former Finance Department in
Konigsberg. The Nervenklinik had been turned over to those suffering
from plague. When typhus broke out the victims were taken to the hospi¬
tals in the Yorckstrasse and the Elisabeth Krankenhaus. There were 2,000
cases lying two to a bed, four in the case of children. 14

Doktora brought him wheaten biscuits. Three days later she was back
with Lehndorff’s rucksack filled with his things. They included a pistol
with fifty bullets. This was carefully hidden. After that she came almost
daily. 15 The commandant allowed him out one day, and he went foraging
looking for medicine. ‘The city is really fantastic. The eye no longer
attempts to reconstruct it, but rather allows itself to be overpowered, drawn
in by the entirely transformed landscape.’ He found the red-rimmed glasses
in which he had drunk his last glass of Martell cognac. As the Russian car
took him back to the camp he spotted Doktora on the city walls, picking
flowers to take to him. 16

In the middle of June Lehndorff was released through Doktora’s inter¬
vention and was allowed to work with her in the German hospital. The
Finance Department was one of the few undamaged buildings in the city.
There was food of sorts — a grey pea soup, typical of East Prussia. 17 The
summer was slightly better, when grasses and dandelions could be gathered
by the roadside, rye grains could be filched from the fields and mussels from
the overgrown city pond. The idyll did not last long. Once again it is dif¬
ficult to avoid the impression that the Russians were hoping that the

HOME TO THE REICH!

Germans would die, to rid themselves of the responsibility of feeding and
repatriating them, although a little fat was made available for children.
Lehndorff’s German hospital was turfed out of the Finance Department.
They had twenty-four hours to move 1,500 patients into the old
Barmherzigkeit — the Hospital of the Sisters of Mercy.

The chief problem was famine now. Lehndorff was forever seeing
patients suffering from oedema who were skeletal from the waist upwards,
but whose legs were filled with water. The only solution was to amputate,
but how were the Germans to live in post-war Konigsberg without legs?
Was it not better just to let them die? ‘Famine leads to a remarkable death.
There is no fight. The sufferer gives the impression that death is already
behind them.’ One woman was brought to him who had lain ten days in
a market garden eating unripe blackcurrants. She was completely blocked
up. She nearly died while Lehndorff endeavoured to sort her out.
Blackcurrants were quite a boon that summer — there was a glut of them
in the allotments behind the now ruinous houses. 18 Somehow the hospi¬
tal acquired three cows, providing valuable milk, for the children in
particular. It was not long, however, before they discovered that the throat
of the best milker had been cut. Later the animal’s udder was found float¬
ing in a vat of soup. Officially the hospital received thirty-five kilos of meat
daily, but the Russians interpreted this to encompass heads and feet, hooves
and horns. One recipient of the precious flesh was the dying mother su¬
perior, who had had to live through the worst of it while her nuns were
constant prey to the Russians. 19

There were plenty of books in the ruined houses, and literature was
consolation for some, but there was next to no food. Cases of cannibalism
were reported, with people eating the flesh of their dead children. Of the
73,000 Konigsberger alive in June 1945, only 25,000 survived the experi¬
ence. 20 Hermann Matzkowski, a communist sawmill worker the Russians
installed as mayor of the Konigsberg suburb of Ponarth, reported that
15,000 Konigsberger had disappeared or died in the main prison during
May. On 20 June 1,000 people were beheaded before his eyes. 21

Lehndorff and Doktora made an expedition to suburban Preyl. They
had no shoes and went barefoot. On the way they plucked cornflowers —
the floral symbol of Prussia. Russians were supplementing their diet by
fishing in the vast Schlossteich that provided water for the city. Later
Lehndorff saw two boys swimming in the pond. Given how malnourished
they were, he was amazed by their energy. When he told them not to swal¬
low the water, they replied in a matter-of-fact way: ‘Oh, what does it
matter how we die, no one is going to get out of here!’ 22

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CHAOS

When they reached their goal they found the house of Doktora s rela¬
tives burned out. She began to cry. They hitched a lift to Juditten in the
suburbs where Doktora’s house was. There were Germans living in it.
When Doktora tried to enter they attacked her. Lehndorff’s beloved was
losing her will to live. She discovered that she was infested with lice - the
final indignity. When he went to see her in the morning she had taken
poison. Lehndorff was shocked at his lack of emotion. He too would find
a more appropriate time to mourn. 23

Autumn 1945 arrived. There were rumours that the Konigsberger were
to be shipped west under Western supervision, typhus cases first. Hopes
were temporarily raised. The news caused a drop in prices for winter
clothes as the city-dwellers thought they would be out before the bad
weather started. A woollen jacket could be obtained for six potatoes, a coat
for a tin of meat. You had to be careful, however, as fraudsters had found
a way of replacing the contents of tins with clay and leaves. Meanwhile the
ripe corn rotted in the fields as there was no one to harvest it. 24

The fate of those living in the villages was no kinder than that of the
Konigsberger. The distinguished journalist Grafin Marion Donhoffwas the
daughter of one of the region’s great magnates. The family home,
Friedrichstein, was the local Versailles. In 1945 it was burned to the
ground. In 1947 Grafin Donhoff received her last letter from home. It
described what had happened in her village when the Russians came.
They arrived on a Tuesday, setting fire to various houses and shooting two
old coachmen and the bell-ringer who summoned the workers to the
fields. Her correspondent wrote:

A few days later they shot Magda Bohaim, Lotte Pritt and her child and
Grandma Plitt; in Wirrgirren they killed five workers on the estate and the
forester Schmidt’s wife, who took eight days to die and must have suffered
terribly. Old Plitt then hanged himself. In February they began the trans¬
ports to the Urals. My husband went with them; as did the innkeeper
Dreier and his daughter Ulla, Stellmacher’s two daughters, Frau Jung, Frau
Kriischmann, Frau Oltermann, the four Marx girls, Christel and Herta
Heinze and the smith’s daughter. I received news from Karl Marx [sic] a few
months ago that my husband and most of the others died in the Urals. You
can see how death has moved into our little village. First of all the lads all
died at the front and now the old, and even the girls . 25

Typhus had cut a swathe though the population of the village. Sister
Hedy, who had nursed them through the epidemic, had now been ill for
a fortnight. They had all had to change their lodgings many times, as
more and more surviving buildings were requisitioned by the Red Army.

HOME TO THE REICH!

Marion DonhofF’s correspondent had lived at the mill, until her lodger, the
Oberinspektor (senior estate manager), had been shot in the stomach, and
she had moved back into the village in fear for her life. She took the
wounded man to the hospital in a wheelbarrow. ‘The women from
Wittgirren lent a hand, for it was no easy task, moving the heavy old man
who was suffering from terrible pains. We laboured for four hours. At the
[parish] boundary he asked us to stop, saying “Women, let me see my
beautiful Quittainen* once more.’” He was dead by the time they reached
the hospital. 26

The way to survive was to work for the conquerors. Marion DonhofF’s
informant was one of them. The only ray of light in her slavery was the
sight of Sister Hedy’s two-year-old daughter while she waited for permis¬
sion to go to the new Germany across the Oder. The Soviet authorities
were gradually repopulating their new territory, but there were a few
menial jobs to be performed. There was a little work to be had in the hos¬
pitals and factories, and there was an industrial outfitter and a baker where
casual labour was required. Germans worked in the power stations and in
the carpenters’ workshops until they were replaced by Russians. One man
made a living by selling the books he dug out of the rubble. A number of
priests and pastors continued to operate in Konigsberg, as their work — par¬
ticularly for orphaned children - was tolerated by the Russians. Nine of the
clergymen died of starvation or dysentery; three were killed.

On 4 July 1946 Konigsberg lost its ancient name. It became Kaliningrad.
With the change of nomenclature came Russian physicians to replace the
Germans operating in the hospitals, and Russian workers took over from
the Germans in the factories. A few roubles could be made from teaching
the Russians German or to play the piano. A sort of calm reigned in which
Germans could read their own newspapers, listen to broadcasts in their
own language and send their children to their own schools. There was even
a German Choir made up of doctors, nurses and others at the Yorck
Hospital.

This lasted until repatriation began in the summer of 1947. The trans¬
ports took off in earnest on 22 October that year. On 10 September Ruth
Friedrich recorded the arrival in Berlin of 6,000 Konigsberger, people
who had lived on carrion and rubbish and were ‘more cattle than human
beings, more dead than alive’. Their advent in the capital was followed by
the last remnants of Breslau’s German population. 27 By the time they had

* Village near Preussisch Holland. The Schloss by Jean de Bodt survived, and was even
restored in the 1980s.

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finished, no Germans were left in what had been Konigsberg. A 700-year
history had drawn to a close.*

Country Life

Hans Lehndorff had left Konigsberg two years before the transports
removed the remaining Germans, because he had heard a rumour that he
was about to be arrested. He made a wise choice even if the story was false:
on 6 and 7 November 1945, the Russians celebrated their Revolution by
beating the Germans bloody and raping the women again. One of the vic¬
tims was Mayor Matzkowski’s seventy-one-year-old mother. The only
women spared were those carrying Russian babies. 28 As Lehndorff fled
through the shattered streets he watched Russian soldiers clearing Germans
out of their houses near the Friedland Gate. From now on they had to live
in the allotments. He wanted to reach the Polish half of East Prussia and
find out what had happened to his family, particularly his mother, who was
the daughter of the right-wing political wheeler-dealer Elard von
Oldenburg-Januschau. In Hanshagen he was taken in by two old ladies
who revealed their hidden hens. He hadn’t seen a hen for six months. They
put him to bed and fed him on wild mushrooms. Later he found boletus
mushrooms in the woods and ate them raw with sugar. 29

He headed for Ponarien, near Allenstein, where some of his relatives had
lived. Near their estate he ran into the retainer Preuss, who gave him the
usual news of rape, murder and suicide. Poles had moved into the big
house, but he found his aunt, Frau von Stein, living in the gardener’s cot¬
tage. She had initially left the house to make way for the Russian
commandant, who had since pursued the war to the west. Finding his
mother’s sister was a source of great joy: ‘To see a person again now who
belongs to me, after all that has happened, is like a foretaste of our reunion
in heaven.’ 30 He learned of his cousins: two of Frau von Stein’s daughters
had been interned with their father; the sons had been at the front and she
had no news of them. The women, his aunt included, had developed a
modus vivendi with the Poles. They worked as agricultural labourers in the
fields and received in payment half a litre of skimmed milk every day. The
women brought home two basketfuls of potatoes. These were sorted by

* Yet when the author visited the city in 1992 a tiny band of Germans had somehow man¬
aged to re-establish themselves in Kaliningrad, and even had their own church and pastor.
They were naturally one of the first stops for the many Heimatgruppen who wanted to visit
the city where they had been born and grew up.

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variety in order to make the diet less monotonous. The furniture from the
big house was being gradually broken up to feed the fires. 31

It seemed better to stay put for the time being. Lehndorff heard of the
perils of deportation to Germany, of the brutality of the Polish guards and
of the marauding bands that robbed the refugees in the trains. In
November 1945 CARE parcels began to arrive from America, providing
some extra food for the starving Germans.* Together with what he could
glean from grateful patients, the small German community in Ponarien
could survive.

Danzig had been one of the first German cities to fall. On 3 May the
German men inhabiting prisons and camps were brought out and marched
down ‘Victory Alley’. All men aged between sixteen or seventeen and
fifty-five were required to go to Russia and work. The women came out
to watch the departure of their menfolk, and strewed the streets with
spring flowers. Of those men (and a few women) who were taken from
Gleiwitz in Silesia to Rudlo near Stalino, many were to die before they
reached their destination. Their bodies were stripped naked and buried by
the side of the road. Most of the men of Gleiwitz were put to work in the
mines. The lucky ones returned to a town depopulated of Germans in
October. Many failed to return at all. Of the Gleiwitzer a third of the 300
men died. 32

The large camp of Laband in Silesia held between 30,000 and 50,000
men, most of whom were deported to Russia to work in the Siberian
mines. Few had returned by the end of 1946. The lucky ones escaped the
mines and worked on large kolkhoz farms instead. 33 In Gleiwitz, Hans-
Giinther Nieusela’s father was marched off to Kazakhstan, and did not
return until 1948. 34 German and Polish women were impressed into clear¬
ing the streets of rubble. Reusable bricks were set aside, establishing the
pattern for other German cities. Even the Jews from Stutthof camp were
made busy with restoring Danzig’s beautiful fagades. More than 60 per cent
of the city had been destroyed.

At the end of May a Special Commission had been convened to
‘Polonise’ the place names in the district. Langfuhr — ‘long drive’ — was
somehow rendered as Wrzeszcz, or ‘you scream’. The place names were
altered some two months before the Allied leaders met at Potsdam. It was
clear that the conference would not alter the de facto situation.

For the most part the famous Junkers lived in large if modest manor
houses and farmed their own estates. There were relatively few grand

171

* See below p. 374.

CHAOS

houses or absentee landlords. The grandest of all were the Grafen
Hochberg or Princes Pless, who lived at Fiirstenstein in Upper Silesia and
owned a large chunk of the coal mines. Their estates had been split
between Germany and Poland after the First World War, and a prolonged
legal dispute had robbed the last prince - Hansel Pless — of most of his
income in the 1920s and 1930s. During the war the castle was inhabited by
Magda Goebbels s lover, Gauleiter Karl Hanke, who carried off anything of
value he could find once the Russians appeared on the horizon.

The Russians arrived on 5 May. Later, the last chatelain, Paul Fichte,
went back to the castle to survey the scene:

I crept over to Furstenstein to see what went on . . . Everything broken up
and robbed, our flats were totally empty, all windows broken. All inhabitants
were expelled by the Russians so that Furstenstein could be pillaged, it
didn’t look as if humans had been there, indescribable. The beautiful foun¬
tains on the terraces are broken, the Donatello Fountain was pulled down.
The library was loaded to go to Moscow. The most valuable books, even the
Sachsenspiegel [thirteenth-century book of law], had been walled in but
they were found and burned. The old castle also burned down.

Now the family mausoleum was also plundered, the sarcophagi broken
into, the contents thrown around. We had quickly buried Princess Daisy
outside the vault, but she was dug up and robbed. Scholz had planted such
pretty flowers on her grave that it attracted attention. We reburied the
Fiirstin [princess] straight away . . . But the mausoleum had been broken up
and couldn’t be closed again. Now a migration of people to the mausoleum
began. Everyone wanted to see what it was like inside, most of them became
scared and ran off, for the contents of coffins lay on the floor. The skeleton
of a Fiirstin nee Kleist we couldn’t find any more, only the head lay there.
Andersek from the stud shot himself and his family. The stable boys buried
their bodies behind Kummer’s goat shed . 35

The Poles made off with the late princess’s jewellery.

Kathe von Normann heard a rumour that Berlin and Stettin had fallen
on 5 May and that both Hitler and Goebbels had committed suicide. The
next day she had news that Germany had laid down its arms. The
Frenchmen billeted in the same house celebrated with barley coffee and
began to sing. Rumours were running wild. On the following day she
heard that Pomerania would remain German as far east as Stolp, and that
her family had a chance of hanging on to the Barkow estate. Uncertainty
meant that a lot of people who had fled at the appearance of the Russians
made their way home again. More than a million people did this, only to
be driven out, once and for all. 36 The stories were confirmed by a Polish

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policeman on the 8th. That night the Normanns sang the Leuthen
Chorale: ‘Nun danket alle Gott!’ Since Frederick the Great’s time it had
been Prussia’s unofficial national anthem.

As LehndorfFhad discovered, the French were generally sympathetic to
the defeated Germans, despite the indignities they had suffered during the
war: ‘their opinion of the Russians and the Poles is just as bad as ours’. One
of them, a tall, blond young man, gave Frau von Normann a present of
some much needed clothing material. Fie wanted a crust of bread in
return, but she had none to give, just a little butter and a liver sausage. Fie
told her that the French had been hiding a few German noblemen in
their ranks. She thought he might also have been German. 37

The big city of Breslau had yielded only on the 6th. Two days later the
war officially ended. It made little difference for the survivors. On the 9th
a party of thirteen Poles arrived to claim the city for their country. They
moved into a house on the Bliicherstrasse and set up a Polish eagle over the
door. On the 10th more Polish pioneers joined them, together with a
group of men from the Polish Office of the Public Security. 38

On 13 May a delegation of‘Lublin Poles’ headed by Boleslaw Drobner
travelled to Sagan in Silesia to report to their Soviet masters. Edward
Ochab had already been appointed plenipotentiary for the euphemistically
named ‘Recovered Territories’. Such men were as much ‘Muscovites’ as
the German communists who landed outside Berlin as the Red Army
took the city. They assumed power with nil popular support; their mandate
based on nothing more than Soviet patronage. Their claims to much of the
Recovered Territories derived merely from Soviet policy. 39

The Russians and Poles divided the spoils, with the best bits naturally
going to the former, which resulted in their occasionally coming to blows
over the booty. 40 Meanwhile the Red Army was still scavenging, with no
regard for leaving any useful equipment behind for the puppet state they
were setting up in Poland. In some instances the Poles and the Germans
made common cause in order to preserve something that would otherwise
have gone east. 41 The Poles also fell out with the Czechs over the Teschen
pocket of Silesia.

In Neustadt in Upper Silesia a thousand head of cattle went east, leav¬
ing around a score to feed the locals. The harvest for 1945 was
confiscated. 42 Treks had been straggling through the towns and villages of
the region for months now. At first they were made up of Germans from
the General Gouvernement who had fled at the Russian advance. Now
they were joined by the Silesians themselves. Some Upper Silesians fled to
the Sudetenland, like the doctor Theofil Peters from Pitschen who went to

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Leitmeritz before the Czechs threw him out. It might have been worse for
him: he was opting for the fire in preference to the frying pan. 43

Later in May Kathe von Normann heard that the British and the
Americans were already releasing POWs. This was not true, but it gave her
leave to hope that her own husband might return. The absence of men was
a torture to the women in more senses than one. They were nightly vic¬
tims to Russian bands, which, even if they did not succeeded in capturing
their quarry in the form of female flesh, food or valuables, nonetheless
shattered all hope of sleep. After the troops had been there a few days, the
attacks died down, but each new billeting renewed the problem. When
Frau von Normann decided to go to the local town of Plathe to receive
treatment for blood poisoning, she learned that the German doctors had
been replaced by Russian and Polish medics who were not allowed to treat
Germans. She found a German doctor in a pitiful state in her own flat —
she had a three-year-old daughter, and was pregnant with another, Russian
baby.

In the vicinity of Stolp in eastern Pomerania the Krockows and the
Puttkamers were less well informed than the Normanns. The first indica¬
tion they had that the war was over came a fortnight later at Whitsun. The
Russians paraded through the villages shooting into the air and shouting,
Woina kaputt! Woina kaputt!’ Whether it was true or not, no one could
tell. They had no newspapers and no wireless sets. Even if they had man¬
aged to hide a wireless, there was no electricity to make it work.

The Pomeranian gentry heard a good deal about ‘Russki kultura’ which
decreed cleanliness and order in the villages and towns behind the
Oder—Neisse Line. Pigs had to be scrubbed until they gleamed.
Pomeranians of all classes were put to work cleaning the pigsties or milk¬
ing the cows (until they, like so much else, went east), and sometimes they
earned a crust of bread for their pains. A squire’s wife like Kathe von
Normann had to learn how to milk a cow, although she had to admit that
she was less proficient at it than the meanest peasant girl. 44 Many of the
cows were sick, suffering from foot and mouth disease, and looked bad.
When the catde were driven off to Russia Frau von Normann was relieved
of the chore of looking after them and producing milk and butter. In
Ermland, where Lehndorffwas holed up, there were a few well-concealed
hens, and here and there a ‘milk-ewe’ or a pig hidden in a cellar, but the
situation there was much the same. 45

Yet the formal relationship between squire’s wife and peasant woman
continued for the time being, despite the fact that both were very much
in the same boat — preyed upon by Russians and Poles, and, when not

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sexually molested, obliged to work as their slaves. Kathe von Normann
thought it inappropriate that one former worker should call her ‘gnadige
Frau’ rather than Frau von Normann. She thought the use of ‘my lady’ silly
when they were both milking cows, feeding pigs or mucking out sties
together. But the old forms of address died hard. Even when Frau von
Normann was finally banished from the family fief, pushing her few
belongings on a cart towards a transit camp, she called out to the coachman
of her nearest grandee neighbours to ‘tell both the baron’s daughters that
we have all been told to leave Barkow!’ 46

The male sex was restricted to old men and boys. Even in May, a few
ancient landowners were still living in their houses, often protected from
the Russians by their former workers. The wisest policy was to stay away
from the manor or its ruins, and as much as possible to disguise yourself as
a peasant. All agricultural instruments and machines had been carried off.
The fields were lying fallow for want of implements to farm them.
Between Dangerose and Stolp the railway lines had been taken away and
there was no access to the provincial capital. Lehndorff had a similarly frus¬
trating journey when he attempted to get to the town of Allenstein. The
Russians had already carried off one set of lines. 47

The suicides continued. In the village of Florst, Kathe von Normann
heard that the sixteen-year-old Christel M. had been repeatedly raped by
the Russians. The next day she drowned herself in the Stau Lake. In
Ermland a woman responded to her daughter’s abduction by the Russians
by revealing the presence of all the concealed girls in the village. 4S Frau von
Normann was even more distressed when she heard her eight-year-old son
Henning say that Christel had done the right thing. Leni S. poisoned her¬
self and her ‘cute’ children, but a Russian doctor brought her back to life —
but not her offspring. Frau von Normann wondered whether he had really
done her a service. 49

Death could come at any time. An old couple in the Krockows’ village,
were chased into an icy pond and forced to stay there until they drowned;
a man was tied to a plough and driven until he fell, then finished off with
a submachine gun. The nobles were often the first to go: Graf Lehndorff’s
mother and brother were killed by the Russians as soon as they learned
who they were. The lord of Grumbkow, Herr von Livonius, had his arms
and legs cut off and was tossed into the pigsty to be eaten by its denizens.
Frau von Normann’s neighbour, Baron von Senfft, was found beaten to
death in a swamp in June. He was still dressed in his coat and shoes. His
orphaned daughters had been to see her just the day before. They were
living in the coachman’s house and working in the garden. Frau von

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Thadden-Trieglaff, of the family of Bismarck’s pietist friends, was still
living unharmed, however, in the village of Vahnerow. She and her daugh¬
ter inhabited one wing of the manor while the Russians inhabited the rest
with their cows.

Another Fraulein von Thadden together with a young Seckendorff girl
brought Kathe von Normann news of the fate of other local Junkers. The
von der Marwitzes from Riitznow, famous from the time of Frederick the
Great, had seen their manor burned to the ground, and the father shot in
Greifenberg. Frau von der Marwitz had been put to work with the cows, and
was in a pitiful state, weighing under thirty-five kilos. The Blanckenburgs
had a similar tale to tell. Property no longer had any real meaning. Lehndorff
was not upset to find shirts embellished with his relatives’ monograms on the
bellies of his patients. When he treated the Polish commandant he sent him
home on a horse with a valuable package that included money, white bread,
eggs, stockings and a shirt bearing his uncle’s initials. 50

The women, children and the few remaining men assembled at the
sound of a bell at 6 a.m., seven days a week. For their labours they were
given a little skimmed milk and 250 grams of corn a head (150 grams for
non-workers and children) to make bread. This was far less than the
Berliners, but then there were no Westerners around to monitor what was
going on, and no propaganda war to win. There was no meat, butter, curds
or vegetables to be had, but this was the country, and diets could be sup¬
plemented by the odd wild boar or stag, fish from the many lakes and wild
mushrooms. Lehndorff even found some morels. 51

Working for the Poles

The Polish Miliz also materialised — a cross between a militia and a police
force. It was variously reported to be made up of young boys of nineteen
or twenty who had been in the German ‘work service’, KZler or parti¬
sans. 52 Their desire for revenge made them even more ferocious than the
Russians. 53 They took over the job of rounding up Germans from the
Russians. Women and children were herded towards Germany, while any
remaining men were put to work. 54 The shops in Kathe’s local town of
Glowitz were now also in Polish hands, and accepted zlotys, not marks.
The inhabitants of the villages began to form the impression that they were
living in an inverted version of the Nazi General Gouvernement. Even in
October, inhabitants of Eastern Pomerania had no idea whether their
‘zone’ was German or Polish.

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Faith was deep-rooted in the old Prussian East, particularly among the
Pomeranian and East Prussian gentry, where there was a tradition of
Pietism exemplified in the journals of Graf Lehndorff. Kathe von
Normann’s diary reveals a profoundly religious woman who gathers her
children around her in daily prayer and sings hymns with them. Every
night their missing father is remembered in their orisons. Apart from
marauding Russians, hunger and the strains imposed by forced labour, the
Normanns seemed to suffer most from lack of shoes. What they had for¬
merly possessed had been taken by the Russians, and the childrens feet
were growing. Two pairs of stockings replaced shoes, but they were torn
and filthy and no protection against the pelting rain of a Pomeranian
spring.

Many of the Poles who settled on German land were refugees them¬
selves, driven from their homes east of the Bug, which was now to become
Soviet territory In May offices were recreated in Breslau to find housing
for the expellees. On 6 July, eleven days before the conference opened in
Potsdam, the first 800 Germans were expelled from the city. 55 For the time
being the Germans cleared rubble, buried bodies and cleared mines. The
Soviet authorities had litde consideration for the Poles, even those who had
been slave labourers under the Nazis. Some were packed off to the mines
at Waldenburg. 56

The Potsdam Conference that summer proved an acute disappointment
for the Germans marooned east of the Oder and Neisse rivers. The Western
Allies turned a blind eye to the Poles as they reshaped their domain. At first
the Germans welcomed the news that the Poles were to be their masters —
‘that, instead of the “Godless” Russians, from now on the Catholic Poles
had taken over the regime’. 57 The level of‘Polonisation’ came as a shock to
every German. In the cities German ‘antifa’ groups emerged to help in the
work of denazification only to discover that the Poles wanted them out
too. 5S New names had to be found. Henceforth Breslau was ‘Wroclaw’ -
like ‘Gdansk’ a name so obscure it was new even to the most fanatical Polish
nationalists. On 15 May the bishop of Katowice, Stanislaw Abramski, vis¬
ited the priests of the Breslau Cathedral Chapter to tell them that Poland
would brook no racial minorities.* ‘Breslau and Stettin are to become
thoroughly Polish; Lvov with its university is coming to Breslau; Wilna
with its university is moving to Stettin.’ 59

* This was true only up to a point: half a million largely Catholic Germans remained in
Upper Silesia, because the Poles refused to recognise their nationality, and there were the
‘autochthones’ in East Prussia. Most of these left before the 1980s. As many as 30,000
remain around Olszstyn.

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Each of Breslau’s fine, red-brick medieval churches was to be invested
with the traditions of a church in Lvov. In all four and a half million ethnic
Poles were to be resettled in this way. On 12 August 1945 the Polish pri¬
mate Cardinal Hlond arrived to break the news to the German Catholic
clergy that they were not welcome either. When Father Helmut Richter
received a pastoral letter on 11 October 1945, half of it was in Polish, a lan¬
guage he couldn’t read. Latin would have been a more obvious choice.
Father Joachim Konrad delivered the last German sermon in the
Elisabethkirche on 30 June 1946, closing the German chapter in the history
of Breslau. The Catholic hierarchy (both in Poland and in the Vatican)
behaved in a particularly craven way — the Church had forgotten about
universality. 0

In Danzig, too, the German clergy were told to leave as early as July
1945. Masses were celebrated in Latin, so inside the churches there was no
apparent persecution for the time being. The bishop was, however,
informed that all Germans had to leave Danzig as the Polish Miliz went
from street to street clearing the last Germans out of their houses. The
bishop objected that this meant Reich Germans, not Danziger. He was put
in his place: it meant the Danziger as well. 61

The monks in the Benedictine monastery of Griissau fared no better.
The massive baroque building had been a favourite stopover for Frederick
the Great during the Seven Years War. In 1810 the monks had been cleared
out, but a religious community from Prague had settled in the buildings
after the Czech government had dissolved the abbeys in their new state in
1919. The Nazis had thrown them out in their turn and they had taken
refuge in a nearby nunnery. Now it was the Poles’ turn to expel them.
Because they were ‘Germans’, only one monk was allowed to remain — he
was from the South Tyrol. 62

At the end of 1945 there were still 300,000 Germans in Breslau. They
outnumbered the incoming Poles by five to one. Nine months later the
position was reversed. By March 1947 the Germans comprised less than 10
per cent of the population. Because all Silesian roads led to Breslau, there
was little hope of avoiding the city of rubble, and the arrival of more for¬
lorn Germans was seen as a further pretext for plunder. 3 While the
politicians bargained their city away in Potsdam, Germans were dying at a
rate of 300 to 400 a day. Some of these were suicides, but we learn that the
number would have been significantly higher had the Germans had access
to cooking gas. A few months after the city fell infant mortality had
reached 90 per cent. The Russians and the Poles had made it clear they
were not in a position to feed the Germans, but a little was dished out all

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the same — German rations amounted to half to a third of that given to the
others. The zloty’s exchange rate with the Reichsmark began at parity,
then was pegged at two marks. Exchange remained at best capricious. By
the summer the Poles were operating a black market in the city, and
Germans could trade their last articles of clothing for food. A good dress,
for example, could yield between one and a half and two kilos of butter. 64

The Germans had to make way for the Poles as they arrived. For those
children who possessed good health there were exciting times to be had
among the ruins. Twelve-year-old Friedhelm Mondwurf, for example,
would sing songs for the Russian soldiers and then beg for food. His par¬
ents were appalled when he came home with a sack full of klebba — black
rye bread — but they could see the advantages. The boy also went out to the
old allotment, which had been mined, and pulled the fruit from the family
trees, although the area was littered with dead soldiers. 65 Again the old con¬
tempt for the Poles materialised. The priest in Alterode near Breslau
expressed the view that ‘The Pole is with few exceptions completely sub¬
ject to the demon drink.’ 66 When Ukrainian and Galician Poles came to
Gleiwitz and kicked the Germans out of their comfortable homes, Hans-
Gunther Nieusela commented that they preferred houses with bathrooms:
‘in these places they like to keep their goats and poultry’. 67

As the Poles came in, Germans were evicted and resettled in the cellars
of ruined houses in what were ghettos in all but name. Typhus and diph¬
theria raged, killing many children. Medicine to deal with the epidemic
was made prohibitively expensive to the Germans. Father Helmut Richter
reported that a Polish doctor (who was actually no more than a nurse) was
injecting typhus cases with carbolic. When asked why, she said it was
because they were going to die anyhow. 68

Rural Silesia

Every Silesian town went through the same process with more or less the
same degree of savagery. In the Catholic areas of Upper Silesia the churches
and their ministers were an obvious target. In Preussisch-Kramen Poles
broke into the church and prised open the tabernacle. The dove above the
altar was shot down and the saints decapitated. In June 1948 they deported
the priest, but the villagers evidently looked Polish enough, and were
allowed to remain for now. 69 In Ritterswalde near Neisse the priest was
shot, but not killed, at the altar of his church. Sixteen other Silesian priests
were killed. 70

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Klosterbruck in Kreis Oppeln is a particularly well-documented case.
The Russians arrived on 21 January 1945. The priests and local nuns had
taken refuge in the convent chapel together with a young woman and her
child. The usual rape and pillage went on in the streets outside. Any
woman who refused to he down was shot. The priest whose account we
have was contemptuous of the Russian conquerors. ‘Go back to Russia,’ he
wrote, ‘and sit outside your wattle and daub cottage, chew sunflower seeds
and you will become amiable again.’ 71 Some were not so bad: a Muslim
officer, ‘a good chap’, brought them a bucket full of soup and some sugar
after they had slaughtered the hogs; but then a crazed older officer took a
nun behind the altar and tried to rape her. He was interrupted by a
younger officer who seized the man and had some soldiers throw him out
like a bag of flour. A guard was posted at the door to the chapel. On Ash
Wednesday that year the girls paid particular attention to the practice of
smearing themselves with ash. They wanted to make themselves look old
and ugly.

This did not help the nuns, who had now become the object of Russian
attentions again. At the beginning of Lent four of them were taken off and
raped. The Poles arrived on 14 March and banned the use of German.
‘Satan is back!’ wrote the priest. ‘The new Satan seems almost more dan¬
gerous. He claims to be Catholic and keeps talking about Czestochowa.’ 72
Three days later all the nuns who had been spared were raped, including
one of eighty. For some of them the new experience was coupled with a
further unpleasantness: venereal disease. The Russians now proudly claimed
there were no more virgins in Klosterbruck. The plight of the nuns was
particularly galling in that the new Polish doctors refused to treat Germans.
Some of their torments came to an end when they were expelled on 25
May. 73

Ukrainian Poles arrived in the wake of the Miliz. They had been driven
out by the Russians. The priest thought them ‘good people’. Upper Silesia
was considered a special case because the population was mixed German
and Polish and almost entirely Catholic. For Poles it was an article of faith
that they were all Poles, and in many cases only pretending to be German.
It was an evident reversal of the Nazi policy, which had stressed the
‘Germanity’ of Upper Silesia at the expense of the Poles. Wasserpolnisch —
the local patois — had been banned since the 1930s. In consequence the
children no longer understood it. 74 It was useful to know Polish after the
population was banned from speaking German. As Ursula Pechtel
reported, ‘A single German word would have been sufficient to have us
thrown into a Polish extermination camp.’ 75

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In Schonkirch near Oppeln, in the more German part of Upper Silesia,
the Russians spent all day calling for ‘wodka’, ‘cebula’ (onions), ‘ogorki’
(gherkins) and ‘panienka’ (girls). They had no apparent preference, as long
as whichever one it was came ‘dawaj, dawaj’ (quickly). The locals cun¬
ningly set to work distilling vodka. With one to two bottles they could buy
back a stolen cow; with two to three, a horse. Of course they were
promptly stolen again. 7 ' 1 In Hindenburg, the Poles arrived bringing along
the old name, ‘Zaborze’, for the town, and proceeded to strip it of any¬
thing the Russians had left. Their zeal exceeded even that of their patrons.
Many of the Germans pretended to be Poles in order to hang on to their
property. In some towns like Schonwald, the expulsions took place in
three waves: at the end of October 1945, in June 1946 and in May 1947. 77

Like Hans Lehndorf, Theofil Peters in Pitschen found that being a
doctor could save your life, or at least postpone death a while. The
Russians were grateful for the services he performed and brought him bot¬
tles of schnapps. On 2 October 1945, however, he was expelled with the
rest. A member of the Miliz arrived at his door to tell him, ‘You will be
expelled on the basis of the Potsdam Accords.’ His medical instruments
were ‘confiscated, property of the Polish state’. He was loaded on to a
goods wagon where his last few possessions were taken from him. Peters
pleaded for his stethoscope, but they wouldn’t listen. ‘You don’t need a
stethoscope for Hitler any more, you German pig!’ said the militia man,
and punched him in the face. 78

He spent twelve days on the train, shunting around Silesia. Twelve
people died in his carriage. The bodies were unloaded at the next halt.
Finally the odyssey finished some twelve kilometres from Gorlitz, the
crossing point for Germany The people were too weak to walk, however,
and were foully treated by militia men wearing second-hand SS uniforms.
Two thousand Germans had to line up for a last body search. Peters was
given the job of loading the dead on to a dog cart and taking them to the
Neisse. ‘In communist Poland,’ they told him, ‘nobody dies of hunger.’ 79

Officially classed as ‘autochthones’, Upper Silesians were given the
chance to ‘opt’ for Poland. There were advantages to this: Irene Zelder’s
aunts in Ratibor told her ‘they had “opted” for Poland in order to live,
because it was the only way to obtain ration cards’. 80 There were disad¬
vantages too: if you opted for Poland you could not ‘go to the Reich’.
Many Germans were stuck in Poland and therefore unable to join their
families. This was the case with Hans-Glinther Nieusela’s two sisters, who
were not able to leave until 1955. 81 One Upper Silesian who was not
given this choice was Carl Ulitzka, the ‘King of Upper Silesia’, who had

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spent much of the war in Dachau. He was expelled by the Poles, because
in 1919 he had led the resistance to Polish annexation in the wake of
Versailles. The Miliz took brutal revenge on anyone suspected of having
stymied their attempts to annex Upper Silesia in 1919. 82

Opting for Poland did not necessarily protect you from Russians. As in
rump-Germany, the most dangerous run for a woman was the journey to
the pump to fetch water. The Russians lay in wait, hiding in the shadows
ready to pounce. Irene Zelder had a disagreeable experience with one soon
after her return to Ratibor, but managed to get home and lock the door
after abandoning her pail in the street. The Russian hammered on the door
with his rifle butt shouting, ‘Wodka! Panienka!’, but he eventually gave up
when no one complied. 83 The acute time for rapes was the two months
from mid-March to mid-May 1945. Girls were generally safer in the vil¬
lages than in the towns, where typhus also raged and carried off significant
numbers of Germans. 84

Neisse - ‘the Silesian Rome' — was 80 per cent destroyed in the shelling.
When the Russians arrived they robbed the city’s many churches and,
according to a priest, raped nuns as many as fifty times. The expulsions
began in the middle of June, but some of the citizens were locked up in a
grim fortress constructed in the time of Frederick the Great. 85 Neisse s fort
was one of the six concentration camps operated by the Poles in Silesia.
The others were in Breslau (Kletschkau Prison), Glatz, Lamsdorf, Trebnitz
and Wtinschelburg. Lamsdorf (now called Lambinowice) between Oppeln
and Neisse was the most notorious of the camps. Heinz Esser, who acted
as an unofficial camp doctor, called it an ‘extermination camp’. There
were 6,488 violent deaths, 828 of them children. Many of those who were
not beaten died from disease, starvation or cold, or from a combination of
the three. The priest who left the account related that the ‘commandant’
was a youth of eighteen. His years were evidently the only tender thing
about him. 86 Esser does not provide any indication of the man’s age, but
gives his name as Cesaro Gimborski,* and added that he was assisted by
about fifty members of the Miliz. The most brutal of these was the sixteen-
year-old executioner’s assistant Jusek who murdered ‘to order’, until he too
was brutally killed by his peers. 87

The ferocity of the guards might be explained by their schooling —
some, at least, had recently been released from German camps. Their
methods were certainly reminiscent of Dachau or Buchenwald. 88 There
were ‘morning exercises’ during which many of the older, half-starved

* There were unsuccessful attempts to bring Gimborski to trial in the 1960s.

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inmates predictably collapsed. Men were beaten to death for trifles: a
teacher for wearing spectacles, a mayor because he was tall and therefore
might have qualified for the SS. Men and women were stripped naked and
forced to perform sadistic acts on one another or eat excrement; girls had
to press burning banknotes between their legs. There were many small
children in the camp. Some of these were later taken away and given to
Polish foster parents. 89

There was virtually no food. Esser says they were given three or four
potatoes a day, a total of 200 to 250 calories. He recalled one day, 8 June
1946, when the figure soared to 530 calories, because there were so few
inmates in the camp. 90 Ursula Pechtel from Hindenburg in Upper Silesia
drew a short straw and was packed off to Auschwitz. She worked in the
factory of the chemical conglomerate IG Farben, dismantling the machines
for the Russians. They were savagely beaten by the guards and at night the
women were sent up as entertainment for the officers. Max Marek had
been in Neu-Schonau camp near Zittau before he too was sent to
Jawiszowice work camp near Auschwitz. This was named Jawischowitz by
the Nazis: it was one of the Auschwitz satellites built in 1942, in this case
to serve the mines at Brzeszcze. 91

In Beuthen there were rare reports of kindnesses on the part of the con¬
querors. The Russians would give the children food, and even rides in their
lorries. There was the usual black-comic spectacle of Russians learning to
ride bicycles and falling off, then taking it out on the inanimate machine.
One Russian in Beuthen expressed his bewilderment at the Germans
going to war: ‘Why you war? In Germany all there. In your country you
can rob from a house more than a whole village in ours.’ 92

In Eastern Pomerania Libussa von Krockow was at first unaware of the
incursion of the Poles. She became conscious of them only when she
applied to the Russian commandant to move into the gardener’s cottage on
the family estate after the Schloss had been burned to the ground. The
commandant had told her to apply to the Polish ‘mayor’. The only Poles
she had noticed up to then were prisoners of war or forced labourers
working on the farms. Now the farms were being turned over to them, so
that servant had become master, and master servant. Ermland was on the
old ‘West’ Prussian border and there had always been more Poles. The
Germans were Catholics who spoke some Polish. They hoped to be able
to cling to their homes by keeping their heads down.

Kathe von Normann found the Poles more sympathetic. Their military
units had actually fought alongside the Russians near the town of Plathe,
and Polish officers had kept her informed of what was going on in the

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Russian camp. The Poles rounded up the last of the men — anyone who
had enjoyed a smidgen of authority in the old days, and any nobles who
had been missed by the Russians. In the case of Jesko von Puttkamer, he
was taken to Stolp and thrown into the former Gestapo prison, with ten or
twenty to a cell, just two beds and virtually no food. His stepdaughter had
to walk thirty kilometres to bring him an occasional crust of bread until he
was transferred to Danzig, out of her reach.

Food, never plentiful, dwindled to nothing. People survived by scrump¬
ing and theft. Potatoes, introduced to Pomerania by Frederick the Great,
became the delicacy. Frau von Normann had to provide milk, butter and
eggs for the mayor and garrison; anything remaining was for the Germans.
Generally, however, there was next to nothing left over. Even so, with her
little butter, milk, eggs and corn, she was well off compared to urban
Germans. In the autumn the pitiful amounts of milk given out to nursing
mothers were stopped. Germans who broke the law by trying to sell goods
were put in the stocks. Poles were incited to spit on them, but generally
merely voided their rheum on the ground.

Treks

Silesia was to be made free of Germans and that meant gathering up what
you could carry and heading west. On 5 October 1945 intelligence reached
General Clay of the plight of the German refugees from east of the
Oder—Neisse and the Sudetenland. The figure of 9,000,000 he felt was
conservative, it was probably more like ten. Of these he assumed that
65—70 per cent had already been deported. Of these, three-fifths had set¬
tled in Saxony, a sixth in Brandenburg and a sixth in Mecklenburg.
‘Undoubtedly a large number of refugees have already died of starvation,
exposure and disease.’ Many were ‘deported by force . . . others fled from
fear’. They all converged on Berlin, where there were around forty-five
camps. The numbers knocking on the doors of the old capital amounted
to between five and six hundred thousand a month. Over 40 per cent of
these were children, ‘many of them without parents’. 93

From 20 February 1946 the British demanded (and the Poles agreed)
that the deportees be placed at assembly points and that trains and ships be
laid on to collect them at fixed times. The size and weight of the luggage
was to be predetermined. They were to be permitted to bring food for the
journey and money. The Poles had to provide disinfectant. Seriously ill
Germans or pregnant women could not be moved. In the case of the

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latter they had to remain if within six weeks of their confinement. If one
member of the family fell ill, all of them had to remain behind until he or
she got better. It was very high minded, and quite ineffectual. At the end
of December 1946, the junior minister responsible for German and
Austrian affairs, John Hynd, had to admit to the House of Commons that
twenty trains had recently arrived in Berlin without heating. On one of
them twenty corpses were found and 160 people suffering from frostbite. 94

It was time to leave, but the decision to make the trek west was not an
easy one. You risked losing all your possessions, further physical abuse and
death. The worst danger was for small children, who often died en route. As
early as the third week of March 1945, Kathe von Normann had seen one
trek come to grief when they were shot at by the Russians and forced to
return to the village. In May even those Germans who had made consid¬
erable progress towards to the west were returned to the villages they came
from. Frau von Normann received a new family at Whitsun, who stole her
little remaining soap. She wondered if she too could return to her manor
house. She was eventually sent back to Barkow, but only after she had been
denounced to the militia by one of her fellow Germans. She never dis¬
covered her crime. In Barkow she had the advantage of being among her
own people, and the two Polish estate workers who now had the job of
running the place looked after her and the children.

The Puttkamer-Krockows determined to go to the provincial capital,
Stolp, to find out whether there was a legal means of escape. They walked
the ten kilometres in a morning. The sign announcing the town had been
crossed out, as it had already been awarded a Polish name: Slupsk. At first
sight, not much had changed on the Bismarckplatz, except that the Iron
Chancellor had been knocked off his pedestal and beheaded. Inside the old
city, however, it was a scene of desolation: rubble lay all around and the
Gothic cathedral had been gutted. There had been no bombing. The
Russians had wrecked Stolp. They found a man in authority. To go to the
‘Reich’ they needed permission from their Polish mayor and an attestation
that there were no known charges against them. They could pack one suit¬
case only and take provisions for three days. It was a while before
permission was granted. Another winter was to be spent in the new
Poland. The nights were long, there was no light, but then there were no
books to read. They amused themselves by remembering epics, but they
stayed clear of Prussian patriotic poetry — celebrating victories such as the
Battle of Sedan was meaningless now.

News came in curious echoes, which might have had a bearing on the
truth had anyone known how to interpret it. In Barkow on 27 May 1945

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they heard stories that the Allies had fallen out, and that American troops
had landed in Stettin and Danzig. The inevitable fall-out between the
Allies was still as eagerly desired in Pomerania as it had been by Goebbels
in Berlin in the last days of the war. On 12 March 1946 Lehndorff heard
that the Russians were in a warlike mood. Stalin had made a critical speech
against Britain. 95 A month later new rumours circulated through the Polish
police which gave a more accurate picture of their fate. The towns of
Greifenberg and Plathe were to be evacuated, and Cammin had already
been cleared of Germans. The Greifenberger were indeed expelled with
just 15 kilos of kit, and left for days to forage in the Cammin woods before
they were rounded up again.

The Silesian expulsions were now in full swing. As the bishop of
Katowice had put it, ‘The sooner they leave of their own free will, the
better it will be for them.’ 96 Except that free will played little part in the
process. Officially Silesia was to be ‘German-free’ by June 1946. In reality
the Poles wanted to hang on to industrious artisans for a little longer yet. 97
Streams of civilians were forced from their homes at gunpoint from the
ancient German towns of Gorlitz, Glogau, Sagan and Liegnitz late that
spring. Every form of locomotion was brought into service: prams were a
popular way of transporting a few bare necessities. One witness saw a cart
being drawn by six children, with a pregnant woman pushing from behind.
The destination was the Lusatian Neisse, which formed the new de facto
border. The town of Forst served as an assembly point for crossings. Here
they were held back until the Poles could rob them of the little they still
possessed. 98 The authorities in Gorlitz on the German side were desperate
to keep them out of the town, as they had no food for their own people,
something which exacerbated the misery of the expellees. Meanwhile
Polish border guards combed the columns for young girls, who were to be
retained, ostensibly to help bring in the harvest. While the Germans waited
at the river, they left messages on trees, indicating to friends and family
which way they were heading, and who they had lost. 99

Griinberg in Lower Silesia suffered because of the amount of alcohol in
the town. Not only had it been the centre of Silesia’s small vineyard area,
but the Nazis had made it their repository for wine — still and sparkling —
and cognac, which they had shipped in from Hamburg, Bremen, the
Rhine and the Mosel. The brutality inspired by the contents of the cellars
led whole families to commit suicide. One priest estimated that a quarter
of the population died in this way. The Poles came on 12 May 1945. On
24 June the remaining population was informed that they had six hours to
pack their bags. 100 In June and July that year a total of 405,401 Germans

HOME TO THE REICH!

were expelled. The last official expulsions occurred in 1950 when 1,329
Germans were thrown out of Swinemiinde. 101

While the stench of death and brutality pervaded the German regions
east of the Oder, one old German was allowed to live unmolested in his
home. The new Soviet—Polish masters in Silesia showed a remarkable
reluctance to expel the Nobel Prize-winning playwright Gerhart
Hauptmann, who had lived in a palatial villa on the Wiesenstein in the
small village of Agnetendorf in the Riesengebirge since 1902. The
Riesengebirge* had been ‘Germany’s air-raid shelter’ and the Foreign
Ministry had been evacuated to a ski-resort in the mountains. The old man
was counting his days surrounded by the works of art he had collected over
the years: the bust of Goethe by David d’Angers had pride of place in the
Paradise Hall with its murals by Johannes AvenariusJ Hauptmann ambled
about wearing a frockcoat with his order Pour le Merite in his lapel. 102 He
had been in Dresden on Valentine’s Day and had been badly knocked
about by the blasts from the bombing. Months later he had still not recov¬
ered. 103

Hauptmann’s amanuensis, the writer Gerhart Pohl, went to see the
Soviet commander in nearby Hirschberg. The streets were festooned with
posters repeating Stalin’s comforting words: ‘Hitlers come and go . . .’ Pohl
explained that Hauptmann was living in his old house up in the mountains.
The officer expressed surprise: ‘Hauptmann, the author of The Weavers ?’
The first collected edition of Hauptmann’s works in Russian had been
published as early as 1902. As a Russian major told Pohl (with a degree of
hyperbole for all that): ‘Every schoolchild in the Soviet Union knows the
writer of The Weavers .’ Visits by literary-minded Soviet officers began soon
after. Hauptmann dealt with them patiently and flattered them with his
admiration for Tolstoy and Gorky. 104

A Polish professor came to see him from the Ministry of Art and
Culture in Warsaw. He was Galician, and spoke German fluently with an
Austrian accent (Galicia had been a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire
until 1918). He told Hauptmann, ‘Germany’s fate is hard, but not entirely
undeserved. Think about the horrors perpetrated against my people. These
are undeniable facts . . .’ The professor returned to his ministry to arrange
for Hauptmann’s protection. The papers arrived on 7 August, five days after
the break-up of the Potsdam Conference. 105

For a while Hauptmann’s presence rallied the inhabitants of the nearby

*The ‘giant mountains’ (sic) rise to over 1,600 metres.

f (1887—1954). Avenarius was an expressionist painter famed for his illustrations to
Hauptmann s works.

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artists’ colony of Schreiberhau, where the Germans continued to live by
selling off their possessions to the Poles. Ruth Storm sold her foalskin coat
for 500 zlotys and managed to procure two kilos of bacon, a pound of
butter and a smoked sausage. She supposed that they were left in peace
because Hauptmann received visits from foreign journalists. 106 It was a
brief respite. One day in the street Pohl recognised an old man in a dress¬
ing gown as one of his former teachers. It was Eugen Kiihnemann, the
biographer of Schiller. He had been robbed of all he owned and turned out
of his house. 107

Hauptmann continued to live on the Wiesenstein with his Polish pro¬
tection papers. No one was allowed to enter Haus Wiesenstein or its
grounds on pain of punishment. That didn’t always stop them. Some heav¬
ily armed Russian soldiers explained that they meant no harm: ‘Wir nicht
machen bum-bum . . . Nicht machen zapzerap, bloss mal gucken. Du
erlauben bitte?’ (We no make bang bang ... no do stealing, just have a
look. You permit please?). 108 Some bogus journalists forced their way in on
one occasion and ran about the place pocketing small objects. ‘Suddenly
they stood in the Biedermeyer Room . . . before the old man . . . “Come
closer, gentlemen! Your youth cheers my ancient heart. You wanted to visit
my house at an unusual hour. You have had your wishes come true. How
might I help you now?”’ Pohl sought clarification of Hauptmann’s position
in the midst of all this harassment, and like many other Silesians he wanted
to know what the future held for them. He decided to pay a call on
Johannes R. Becher in Berlin. The future East German minister of culture
chainsmoked nervously, while Pohl tried to pin him down. He mentioned
the Potsdam agreement: that Silesia was under Polish administration until
the peace treaty. Did that mean it would return to Germany? ‘Mann, ver-
lassen Sie sich darauf nicht!’ (I shouldn’t put your faith in that, old man!). 109

Becher consented to visit Hauptmann on the Wiesenstein. He wanted
to win him over for his Cultural Alliance and Germany’s literary renewal.
It was not easy to get there. There were no trains, and he and his Russian
friend Grigori Weiss had to set out in two cars followed by a lorry con¬
taining food and benzene. It took two days to reach Agnetendorf.
Hauptmann told the poet, ‘I am an old man, I have no more ambitions, but
the fate of Germany concerns us all.’ 110 He nonetheless pledged his sup¬
port: ‘I will go along with you . . . That is my national duty. Together with
my people I shall dedicate all my last strength to the business of Germany’s
national renewal.’ 111

He resisted all moves to shift him across the border, however — he
wished to die in Silesia. The chief concern was the dwindling stock of

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brandy in Haus Wiesenstein. The old man was used to a life-saving glass
every day, and now there remained just a few drops left in the last bottle.
Becher and Weiss decided to do Hauptmann a last good turn and headed
into Liegnitz to see the Soviet commander. Naturally this Russian knew
Hauptmann by reputation too: ‘In the evening we returned to Agnetendorf
with a whole car full of food and with twenty bottles of cognac [sic] of the
best Caucasian brand.’ 112 Hauptmann finally expired on 6 June, three days
after uttering his last words ‘Bin — ich — noch — in — meinem — Hause?’
(Am I still in my house?). The Poles preserved the great man’s residence,
turning it into a children’s home. His body was expelled along with the
living and the dying. Contrary to his wishes he was buried at Hiddensee on
the Baltic coast. 113

Transit Camps

The Normanns received their marching orders on 29 June 1946. Barkow
was to be evacuated within two hours. The 200 or so inhabitants were to
pack for two weeks. Accompanied by Polish soldiers and policemen they
went as far as Plathe in the gruelling heat. The first stop was to be Wollin,
where they were to stay in a camp until they could be shipped across the
Oder.

Transit camps like Wollin existed all over the new Poland. Once noti¬
fied, Germans had to assemble in their town or village squares with one
suitcase. Some Poles were worried what the outside world might think of
them: Lehndorff was asked to speak to the 400 Germans in his camp to
explain that their treatment had been ordered from above, and that it only
imitated what the Germans had done to the Poles. 114 For the people of
Breslau, the camps were at Freiburg Station and Kohlfurt. Once the rail¬
ways were ready to handle them, they were put in bolted railway trucks to
be taken west. For those living in the depths of the country, the journey to
the transit camp was an ordeal in itself. Frau von Normanns cart lost a
wheel in the next village, but she was lucky to find help from the old Polish
village policeman, Dombrowski, whose wife she had protected from the
SS. He loaded her belongings on to his bicycle. The twenty or so Polish
soldiers who accompanied the troop were not too hard on the refugees in
general.

Treks of this kind were hindered by disputes between the Russians and
the Poles. When Frau von Normanns posse arrived in the village of
Trieglaff, the Russian garrison ordered them back to Barkow, blocking off

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the road with men brandishing machine guns. Night fell and the refugees
squatted together on the road. Then came the order to return. It had all
been for nothing.

Home to the Reich

The Krockows’ decision to leave was prompted by an unseasonal descent
by a pack of Russian soldiers demanding ‘Uri!’ The watches had all gone
months before. One of their number panicked, however: she knew of a
watch. It was up in the attic. It had belonged to Robert von Puttkamer,
Libussa von Krockows grandfather, a right-wing minister of the interior
whose sacking in 1889 had been the only successful action of the so-called
liberal empire of the Emperor Frederick’s English-born wife Vicky. The
watch had been a present from Emperor William I, and it had the imperial
signature engraved on the cover. The loss of this one last contact with a
more glorious past prompted them to make the journey. Libussa would go
first, to see how the land lay." 5

On 20 November 1945 the Allied Control Council had worked out the
finer details of the Potsdam Agreement. The ‘orderly and humane’ deport¬
ations were to go ahead. The first tranche covered 3.5 million Germans
from the east. Of these one and a half million were to go to the British
Zone and the other two to the SBZ. Another two and a half million were
coming from Czechoslovakia, half a million from Hungary and 150,000
from Austria. These were to be housed in the Soviet Zone (750,000), the
American Zone (2.25 million) and the French Zone (150,000). A year later
the British Zone had grown by 3.1 million souls, the American by 2.7 and
the Russian by 3.6. Berlin’s population had risen by 100,000 and the
French Zone had taken in 60,000. The population of Germany in its
reduced state had grown by 16.5 per cent." 6

By mid-winter 1946 Stolp possessed a proper office with ‘Emigration’
written in German over the door and an official who spoke the language
without a hint of accent. Forms had to be filled in using the new Polish
names: Rumbske (which was Slavic anyhow) had become Rumsko;
Pommern or Pomerania, Pomorze. The applicant had to swear that he or
she was leaving of his or her own free will, and would not return on pain
of punishment. The certificate cost 150 zlotys. That was two months’
wages for Lehndorff, once the Poles began to pay for his services. A kilo of
bacon cost 400 zlotys, and 500 grams of sugar, 90. 117

It looked deceptively simple: there was a train leaving that morning at

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10.14 arriving in Stettin at two. From there it was only an hour or two to
Berlin. The ticket cost another 150 zlotys. Already half Libussa s money had
been spent. She was taken to a cattle truck, the door was pulled open, she
was pushed in, and then it was slammed shut. In the gloom she began to
pick out the shapes of other refugees - women, children and old people.
The train stopped at the main towns: Schlawe, Koslin, Belgard. With
every halt the door flew open and more refugees were crammed into the
crowded space. It was dark by now. Then it came to a stop. A shot rang
out. Then there were more shots.

The door was ripped open — cries of terror, lanterns flickering, a horde surg¬
ing in: wild figures dimly glimpsed amid the chaos and the confusion, men,
but also youths and women, savage women, perhaps the worst of all, scream¬
ing, slavering, striking, snatching. More pistol shots, right over out heads,
booming like cannon in the small space, numbness, knives and axes, fists,
kicks, feet trampling over bodies, and always this bellowing, and the cries of
fear and pain. Suitcases and crates, boxes and bundles, sprouted wings, flew
up in the air and out of the door. The horde followed them out, and the
door banged shut. 118

The bandits had done their business in a matter of minutes, perhaps five
at the most; but it was just the first attack. At one point militiamen opened
the door and pretended to be concerned. When the Germans said they had
been attacked, the men laughed. As they no longer possessed suitcases, the
next wave went for the clothes on their bodies, stripping off coats, jackets
and dresses. Libussa lost her precious rucksack in the second attack, her
zlotys in the third and her boots in the fourth. The train stopped in
Stargard. So much for the timetable: they reached Scheune, near Stettin, in
the middle of the night.

Stettin, on the left bank of the Oder, had been awarded to Poland, but
many would have seen it as a safe haven. It was anything but. After the train
had been shunted around for a while the doors were opened and everyone
ordered out. There were guards with submachine guns ordering them to
line up in twos. It was snowing hard. A crowd of some 400 was marched
towards an old sugar factory, and beaten with rifle butts to make them
move faster. One girl understood Polish. She told Libussa that anyone
caught with letters would be punished, as a spy. Libussa tore up her letters
and threw them into a hedge. The Poles did not want the world to know
about life in the Recovered Territories. The sugar factory offered no more
than a concrete floor and broken windowpanes, with a couple of full
buckets for bodily needs. Dawn came, they waited, then sunset. The Poles
‘needed darkness for whatever they had in mind’. 119 The Germans were

191

CHAOS

marched out in pairs. They were beaten with rifle butts again until they
reached a hall half lit by candles. Behind a table sat an official. He had a
book in front of him and a pile of valuables. They were told to strip naked
and throw their clothes to two men who were ready with knives to dis¬
cover any hidden valuables. Libussa lost her last RM2,ooo.

They dressed from the pile, lucky to find something of their own. Then
they had to sign the book that their money and valuables had been lawfully
deposited. Libussa managed to steal a bit back while the attention of the
official at the desk wandered over to two women stripping on the far side
of the room. As they left, more militiamen examined them by lantern light,
sizing them up. Fearing the worst, Libussa escaped through a window and
hid in a ruined tank until dawn. Then she saw her fellow passengers
coming out of the sugar factory. She caught up with them as they marched
back towards the railway line. They had been robbed of all but a few rags.
Women were sobbing hysterically. There was a train, and an old-fashioned
German conductor in a uniform with a cap: ‘All right, it’s all right, every¬
thing’s going to be all right . . . Climb aboard please, all aboard, we’re
leaving soon, going home.’ 120 The refugees admitted they no longer had
money for tickets. The conductor assured them that this time it was free.
The train took them to Angemlinde, where they all had to get out. A
Russian gave Libussa a piece of bread. Then a new train was put together
to take them to Berlin.

Libussa von Krockow’s experience was not the worst. The refugees
were often packed so tightly that they could not move to defecate and
emerged from the trucks covered in excrement. Many were dead on
arrival. 121 During the winter months the near-naked expellees literally
froze to death. Women went insane as they watched their children die and
they had to be tied up with rope to prevent them from clawing the other
passengers. When they arrived in the remains of Germany they tried to
carry off the corpses of their infants; they didn’t want to believe they were
dead. 122 One of the Germans reported that her baby had been dashed
against the wall as it had come between her and her rapist. Children had
been robbed of their swaddling clothes and allowed to freeze to death. 123

Libussa had still not had enough. At the end of March 1946, together
with her friend Otti von Veltheim, she decided to go back and rescue the
remaining members of her family. After crossing into the Russian Zone,
they reached the comparative safety of Zehlendorf in the American Sector
of Berlin. Near the old Stettin Station they found an East Prussian girl who
had an impressive document in Russian that allowed her to go ‘home’,
although where ‘home’ was was not stipulated. It cost them a packet of

192

HOME TO THE REICH!

Luckies. There were no more friendly Russians in the railway station in
Angermiinde, just Russians with their minds on rape. Libussa and her
friend escaped again. They found a friendly Russian commandant who
assured them, ‘Poles bad. Very, very bad. But Russians good. Just ask
Russians. Russians always help against Poles.’ 124

After an initial reluctance to countenance the trip, they had won over
the reluctant German railwaymen who were due to drive the train to
Stettin. It would be a chance to put one over the Poles. Potatoes stolen
from the Russians were cooked up in the locomotive steam and after an
hour or two the signals turned green and the train set off. The Russians
tried their luck with the girls, but accepted their rejection manfully enough
and carried on protecting them from the Poles until the train reached
Stettin harbour and the sugar factory. The Russian lieutenant even escorted
them past the Polish guards outside the free port, before leaving them to
fend for themselves in the bombed-out city.

Stettin was not yet cleared of Germans. They could be recognised by the
tatters that served as clothes and by their furtive looks. Libussa and Otti
found an old lady who offered them a room and very soon after a pur¬
ported Graf Heinrich Kinsky from Prague who was working as a lorry
driver for the Poles. German POWs who were fitting up the building for
the Polish authorities provided them with furniture, heat and bedding. The
next morning, however, the count disappeared, never to return. They
found a less fabulous lead in a Polish railway official from Posen, who had
fought in the German army in the First World War and who had been in
the Polish resistance in the Second. He obtained tickets for them to Stolp
and issued them with a couple of Polish newspapers as camouflage.

The journey went relatively smoothly. When the militia arrived they
feigned sleep. The only really tense moment came when they lit up their
Luckies and the unfamiliar smell appeared to arouse suspicion among their
Polish fellow travellers. One was bought off with a cigarette. The journey
to Stolp, which had taken the Royal Prussian Railway a mere three and a
half hours, took the new Polish authorities closer to ten. When the train
reached the outskirts of the city, they panicked and rushed for the door.
One of the passengers said to them in German, ‘Try the other side,
Fraulein!’ The women froze, but the Poles in the carriage were laughing.
In a chorus they said. ‘Auf wiedersehen!’ 125

Libussa waited for mid-summer to bring the rest of the family back to
the ‘Reich’. By then a new administrator had arrived and gone to live in
the manor house in Zipkow. The women found him courteous, and he
spoke excellent German. Indeed, much was familiar in his office: the desk

193

CHAOS

was from Libussa’s house and on the wall was a portrait of one of the
Glowitz Puttkamers. The Pole asserted that the reason he had hung it there
was that he numbered Puttkamers among his own forebears. Likewise
Lehndorff was able to impress Polish officials that his family had once
borne the name Mgowski, and he was issued with a pass in that name. 126

The sympathetic — and aristocratic - Polish official had friends in the
railways in Stolp. The mood was changing in Poland. A camp had been set
up at Neu Torney near Stettin to process the refugees. Attacks on the trains
had come to a complete halt, he maintained. The Germans from
Pomerania were to be taken to the British or Soviet zones; most wanted to
go to the latter. The British authorities were horrified by the physical
state of the Germans when they reached the end of their journey. In April
1946 they issued a formal protest, and began to refuse to accept refugees
under these conditions. In December they stopped accepting refugees
altogether.

Whole villages were being shipped out now. They all had to wait at
assembly points until the order came to join the train. The train Libussa
and her family took required two days and two nights to travel the 237
kilometres to Stettin. They were allowed out at the stations, and there were
indeed no attacks. The end of the journey was a DP camp. There Libussa
found her friend Otti and her relatives, one of whom had already gone out
of his mind. They spent three weeks in the camp.

When in mid-March 1946 Kathe von Normann heard that her de¬
portation was nigh, it was time to pack and conceal the last remaining
objects of value. Cushions were suspended from the rucksacks so that they
could travel more comfortably in the catde trucks, and a bucket was found,
for the long hours in the train. A gold pin was hidden in a matchbox, rings
wrapped in wool, necklaces sewn into bags or concealed in the food. A
pearl necklace was rolled in oats, a wedding ring sewn into one of her sons
clothes.

They left on Good Friday. They walked to Greifenberg where they were
taken to a camp beside the railway line. The train departed on Easter
Sunday with some twenty refugees to a truck. Someone had the good idea
of securing the doors with wire from the inside to prevent the bandits from
opening it. This proved wise, because there were attempts to rip it open as
the train went slowly. The Polish guards obliged them to sing. They
opened up with ‘Eine feste Burg’. They came to Kreckow, a suburb of
Stettin, whence it was a two-kilometre hike to the camp. They were
driven on by militia men who threatened them with rubber truncheons.
The following day they were all beaten on their way to the luggage

194

HOME TO THE REICH!

inspection: ‘the children were beside themselves with terror’. 127 At the
counter the Pole failed to locate Frau von Normann’s remaining jewellery.
They seemed more interested in the bacon that others were carrying.
Leaving in May 1947, Hans Lehndorff seems to have had a reasonably
easy time of it, or maybe it seemed like nothing after everything he had
been through in the previous two years.

Kathe von Normann had suffered much, but possibly the greatest suf¬
ferers had been the East Prussians. One transport that left in 1945 crammed
4,500 people into forty-five cattle trucks. In the witnesses’ wagon there
were 116 men, women and children. The train took eleven days to reach
the new German border. During that time there was robbery upon rob¬
bery and two or three people died every day. The Poles did not just strip
them of their possessions; they took the young girls as well. 128 A third of
the East Prussians were dead by the time they reached their homeland. On
28 October 1948 a survey was carried out among young East Prussian girls
in Riidersdorf camp. There were 1,600, most of them country girls who
had been taken to Russia before being brought back to Germany. Between
50 and 60 per cent had died on the way, and more had perished since.
Their average age was 19.7 years and their weight 45.38 kilos. Most no
longer had monthly periods; 48 per cent had been raped, 20 per cent
more than ten times and 4 per cent over a hundred times. 129

Back in the train that night, plunderers descended on the Normanns
and the other impotent refugees, trying to steal their cases. They waited
two days and then were marched back to the station and driven back into
the cattle trucks. The train set off towards Scheune, where Libussa von
Krockow had had such terrible experiences. From there a train took them
directly to Poppendorf near Liibeck in the British Zone. The British Zone
was also the principal destination for Silesians heading west. 130

Nor was the search for valuables as draconian as it had been. When
Libussa crossed the border for the second and last time she had managed to
conceal some family effects in a false bottom to her daughter’s pram. The
effects of camp food on the baby’s stomach had been so terrible that the
official declined to search it. To their glee, the train took them to Liibeck
in the British Zone. At Liibeck they arrived to find that tables had been set
up under the trees and that hot soup was being served to adults and por¬
ridge and hot milk to children. Bananas were handed out to the children
afterwards. One of them, suspicious of this novelty, refused: ‘What the
farmer don’t know, he don’t eat.’ 131

It was the same treatment that Kathe von Normann had received. After
all she had experienced, Frau von Normann was speechless. A British

195

CHAOS

officer went between the tables offering seconds. The women were so
unused to this solicitude that they burst into tears and tried to kiss his hand.
It was not the satisfactory food that relieved them so much, but the feeling
of security: ‘We were human beings again, and treated as human beings.
Who can understand this feeling? To be honest, only those who had been
through the many months of horror we had suffered, and from which we
had now escaped.’ 132

196

PART II
Allied Zones

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Prologue

G ermany was formally divided into zones on 5 June 1945. They were
of course clumsily drawn and certain industries became largely
unworkable as a result. Spinning was in British Westphalia, but weaving
was in Russian Saxony; cameras were made in the American Zone, but the
optical glass came from the Soviet, and the shutters from the French; the
Americans had 68 per cent of the car industry; while the Russians had all
the kaolin needed to supply the various porcelain manufactures that were
the pride of the old German Residenzen . 1 They were very different parts of
Germany As far as the Western Allies were concerned, the joke ran round
that the Americans had been given the scenery, the French the vines, and
the British the ruins. 2

The Allies squatted in their zones offering greater or lesser degrees of
co-operation with their neighbours. The Anglo-Americans worked rea¬
sonably well together and, as comrades in arms, they went on to create
Bizonia at the end of 1946 by uniting their zones. This became Trizonia
when the French finally agreed to the merger. The French saw their piece
of the German cake differently — almost as a conquered fiefdom. Naturally
the Russians would brook no interference with their slice and their pur¬
poses were more similar to the French. What concord existed came at the
meetings of the Allied Control Council in Berlin, which met for the first
time on 30 July 1945 and issued its initial proclamation exactly a month
later. The ACC convened three times a month, bringing together the four
‘elements’, as they were called, on the 10th, 20th and 30th at the old
Kammergericht in the American Sector. During the Third Reich this was
the seat of the notorious Volksgericht or People’s Court, which had tried
offences against the state and had handed down huge numbers of death
sentences.

After Potsdam the Kommandatura was set up in the Luisenstrasse in
Berlin. It was the one Russian word that was palatable to all the Allies. That
the Soviets took precedence was clear to all and sundry: the Western Allied

199

ALLIED ZONES

flags had second place under a giant red star and hammer and sickle. The
Russian commandant was General Gorbatov, while Zhukov’s chief of staff,
General Sokolovsky, sat in on the meetings. The British representative
was General Lyne. The spadework at the ACC was done by the deputy
military governors or DMGs, leaving the governors proper to deal with
their governments. Each meeting was chaired by a different power, which
also provided the ‘light refreshments’ that followed. They generally were
light, except when the Russians were the hosts. The first British DMGs
were General Sir Ronald Weeks (who retired through ill-health in August
1945) and General Sir Brian Robertson. The French sent General Koeltz,
followed by General Noiret. The governor, Pierre Koenig, came to Berlin
‘as seldom as possible’. 3 Clay was the Americans’ emissary The DMGs also
regulated the work of the 175 different committees. A DMG typically
spent the mid-week in Berlin and the weekends in the zone. It was differ¬
ent for the Soviets of course: Berlin was in their zone.

200

Life in the Russian Zone

Die Preise hoch

Die Laden fest geschlossen.

Die Not marchiert mit ruhig festen Schritt.

Es hungern nur die kleinen Volksgenossen,

Die grossen hungern nur im Geiste mit.

Komm, Wilhelm Pieck, sei unser Gast
Und geb, was Du uns versprochen hast.

Nicht nur Ruben, Kraut und Kohl
Sondern was Du isst, und Herr Grotewohl.

The prices high

The shops are firmly shuttered

Famine looms with steady marching pace

Only poor comrades eat their bread unbuttered.

The bigwigs are quick to stuff their face.

Come Bill Pieck, and be a gent:

Give us some of what the Party’s sent.

Not just turnips, swedes and weeds

But the things old Grotewohl thinks he needs.

Popular song. Quoted in Norman M. Naimark, The Russians in
Germany - A History of the Soviet Zone of Occupation, tg^^-ig^g,
Cambridge, Mass, and London 1995, 389-90

T he Russians created their occupation zone or SVAG on 9 June 1945.

Even after they had ceded a large part of their zone to the Poles the
Soviet authorities could congratulate themselves: they had done well. They
had just under a quarter of Germany’s pre-war industrial base; 50 per cent
of the country’s 1936 tool production; 82 per cent of office-machine
manufacture; 68 per cent of textile machines and 25 per cent of car pro¬
duction. They controlled 24 per cent of the population, but — alas - only

201

ALLIED ZONES

2.2 per cent of the coal. This was the sticking point at Potsdam, which had
failed to iron out the differences between the Allies. 1

The Soviet authorities quietly established a civilian regime in their zone
on 27 July, appointing German civilians to ministerial portfolios in trans¬
port, finance and industry. Stalin was careful not to go too far, and
antagonise his new subjects. From the start there were hearts and minds to
be won. He had told his satraps that they were to create national fronts with
bourgeois parties even though their own system only allowed for a one-
party state. Communists in Germany were to talk of‘democracy’, not of
socialism. He was pragmatic on the question of satellite regimes in
Germany or Austria: perhaps they would come with time. He was torn,
however, between the idea of a satellite state in eastern Germany and his
desire to get his hands on the Ruhr. He overestimated the ‘anti-fascists’ and
underestimated the lure of Bizonia. He restrained Tito and the Greek
communists who he thought would endanger good relations with the
West. It was not the same in Poland, which he wished to control without
interference from his wartime allies. 2

Marshal Zhukov was placed at the head of the administration in
Karlshorst — ‘the Berlin Kremlin’ — assisted by his deputies Sokolovsky and
Serov. S. I. Tulpanov (‘the Colonel’ or ‘the Tulip’) was placed in charge of
propaganda, but he was an economist by training — the Russian version of
Ronald Weeks. The Russians spread themselves out in the old military
engineering school. The intelligence officer Gregory Klimov says that his
boss, General Shabalin, had a desk ‘the size of a football field’.* Zhukov
liked to see himself as a friend to the Germans. Unlike many German com¬
munists, he made no attempt to deny the rapes. He blamed them on the
demoralisation of his troops, acts that were very different from the crimes
perpetrated by the SS in Russia. 3 In the spring of 1946 Zhukov was
replaced by Sokolovsky — the battle commander by a pen-pushing desk
general. The Soviet commander had far less power than Lucius Clay and
had to cope with Stalin’s whims. Stalin was ‘opaque’: his policy directions
could be interpreted in a number of ways. It was not easy to know when
he would intervene and in what way. Another problem the commander
had to reckon with were the activities of the secret service organisations,
the NKVD/MVD, the GPU and Smersh. These were independent of the
military governor’s control. Smersh, for example, had the job of investi¬
gating German civilian employees. 4

The SBZ had a panoply of bewildering organs, including GlavPurkka

* Compare Eisenhower, below p. 227.

202

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

in charge of political re-education which ran the newspapers and went
into the POW camps to convince the soldiers of the need for socialism. 5
Under Stalin’s ‘divide and rule’ policy, it was always difficult to know who
was in control. There were, for example, 70,000 demontagniki. Klimov
came across some strange Russian troops in weird uniforms, and learned
that they were ‘dismantiers’: ‘They are all dressed up as colonels and
lieutenant-colonels, but they’ve never been in the army in their life.’ 6
The different Kommandaturas in Berlin, Dresden, Halle and Leipzig
reflected the views of their commanding generals and were often at odds
with one another. The Thuringian command, for example, was harsh,
while the Saxon was liberal. The generals could be sacked and dishon¬
oured on charges of degenerate behaviour. This normally meant keeping
mistresses. From mid-1947 it was official policy that any general who was
caught living with a German woman would be sent home. By this time all
Jewish officers had returned to Russia, as their presence had been deemed
inappropriate. 7

Colonel-General Nicholas Bersarin had something of a hero’s status for
Berliners, doubtless helped by his untimely death in a motorcycle accident
at the age of forty-one. He was credited with doing all he could to pro¬
mote the rebuilding of the city. He made the production of
mortar-producing Riidersdorfer Kalkwerke available to Hans Scharoun as
a personal gift and gave the architect considerable patronage. He also put
the internationally famous surgeon Ferdinand Sauerbruch in charge of
health, Furtwangler of music and Eduard Spranger of the university. Later
the Americans arrested and imprisoned Spranger for a while in Wannsee.
It was not the first time he had tasted food in gaol - he had been inside
after the 20 July Plot — but this time no one could see a good reason for his
arrest, except possibly that the Americans resented his attempts to revive
university life in the Russian Sector. Bersarin was passionate about trotting,
and revived the race-course at Karlshorst for his favourite sport. Before
1945 Karlshorst had been famous for its steeplechase. When Bersarin died
red flags were hung at half-mast all over the city. Ruth Friedrich heard of
his death from a paper-seller on the Potsdamer Platz. When she got home
Leo Borchard told her it was a personal misfortune: ‘He promoted art like
no other.’ His motorbike ran into an army lorry. The driver of the vehicle
shot himself. 8

In the first days Jews and communists were deemed the most trust¬
worthy administrators. Appointments were often capricious. The Russians
would find some apparently uncorrupted soul and tell him, ‘You are now
mayor!’ 9 But it was not always easy to see who was uncorrupted, and a lot

203

ALLIED ZONES

of criminals and thieves were placed in positions of authority. In several
instances, writers were made mayors of the communes where they lived,
and not necessarily communist ones. Rudolf Ditzen (better known as
Hans Fallada, the author of the popular novel Kleiner Mann was nun? -
Litde Man, What Now?) was put in charge of Feldberg in Mecklenburg for
eighteen months. His ex-wife had been raped by the Russians, but he told
his constituents, ‘The Russians come as your friends.’ Gunther Weisenborn
was made mayor of Luckau after emerging from the local prison, 10 while
another writer, Hans Lorbeer, became head man in Pieskeritz. When
Margret Boveri went to Teupitz in the Spreewald at the beginning of May
she found that the Russians had left a Herr Susmann in charge. He was
above suspicion, being both a Jew and a communist, but that had not pre¬
vented the Russians from stealing his bicycle — three times - despite an
official document stating that he needed it for his work. 11

After Potsdam, the antipathies between the West and the East became
more open. The British complained that the Russians had stolen half the
railway lines to Hamburg and demanded that the second set be put back.
In revenge the Russians plundered the trains and sealed the borders so her¬
metically that it cost RMioo,ooo to make the illicit crossing.

Once the dust had settled, the Russians’ stooges were ready to put
through land reform — very largely on their own initiative. It was intro¬
duced in the autumn, and the big estates were broken up. Wolfgang
Leonhard accompanied the leading German communist, Walter Ulbricht,
on a trip to the country where he canvassed opinion. They stopped in a
small village and Ulbricht addressed the inhabitants. The peasants
responded with silence. 13 Some of these reforms appear to have been in
conflict with Stalin’s instructions to play the communist card sparingly, but
they proved popular with many Germans who had grown up believing the
Junkers to be the embodiment of evil, and who also wanted their share of
the land. The Russians were particularly hard on the nobles, setting fire
to their manor houses and raping or killing the inhabitants. Margret Boveri
assumed that the old Junker class was now extinct, and regretted it, as ‘there
were a good many decent sorts among them’. Elvira von Zitzewitz, who
belonged to one of the oldest Prussian families, had told her that her
parents had been wiped out in Templin, and others of her Berlin acquain¬
tance had a similar tale to tell. 13 While they were not exactly extinct, they
had suffered. One study of under 9,000 Junkers showed that nearly 5,000
died fighting in the war, with another 1,500 killed in other circumstances
in 1945. Fifty-eight had died after the 20 July Plot, leaving just over 2,000
survivors in May 1945. Of these another 500 died in detention and the same

204

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

number committed suicide. Around 15 per cent survived to make their way
to the West. Whole families resorted to suicide. In Mecklenburg, which
had a reputation as the most feudal region of Germany, thirty noble fam¬
ilies were destroyed in this way. 14

Owning lots of land could have you placed in one of the nastier Soviet
camps on the island of Rtigen. Initially this meant unseating the remainder
of the East Elbian nobility whose lands lay west of the Oder and Neisse
rivers, but the Russians might have been vaguely thinking of the need to
find room for the refugees from the east. In official East German termin¬
ology, these were not Fluchtlinge (refugees) but Umsiedler (resettlers). The
first agrarian law, passed on 3 October 1945, was an excuse for plunder: all
estates over 100 hectares were to be sequestered. Another 7,000 people
were thus made homeless in one fell swoop. 15 In 1946 the physical sub¬
stance of what remained was more or less effaced, so that the Schloss or
Herrenhaus that lay at the centre of the feudal village of old disappeared
from the map — unless, that is, some other use could be found for it as a
club for Party functionaries or secret policemen, a mental hospital or a
home for handicapped children. 16

As one recent historian has written, the Junkers played ‘a central role in
the demonology of the Nazi regime’. The Russians equated them with
Nazis, and their German stooges made sure agrarian reform was at the top
of the agenda. Communist Party chairman Wilhelm Pieck coined the
phrase ‘Junkerland in Bauernhand’ (The gentry’s lands in the peasants’
hands). 17 By 1947 there were 477,000 peasants tilling the new kolklwz
farms. 18 Some people refused to heed the signs. One of these was Hans-
Hasso von Veltheim, a cosmopolitan intellectual with friends in high places
around the globe. He lived in his country house, Ostrau, near Halle. It was
the Americans who were the first to ‘liberate’ him. They placed a guard of
honour on his land. When the Soviet army took over, they too accorded
Veltheim the honour of a guard and offered him a professorship at the
University of Halle. He declined. He had refused to believe he was in
danger before the authorities grabbed his land. Now, extremely ill, he
decided the time had come to flee to the West, rather than end up dying
in prison like other landowners. He had looked on while a mob, whipped
up by the Russians, pulled down the ancient trees in his park and broke
open the coffins of his ancestors to hang the skeletons from the branches. 19
Those who, like the Grand Duchess of Weimar, threatened to resist the
impounding of all their worldly goods were threatened with the Russians.
Franz Sayn-Wittgenstein’s uncle Prince Gunter von Schonburg-
Waldenburg was not only robbed, he was packed off to Riigen. Many of

205

ALLIED ZONES

them died from hunger and brutality. When Prince Gunter finally escaped
to the West he started a new life as a language teacher. 20 Once the nobles
quit their houses they were festooned with congratulatory banners:
‘Junkerland im Bauernhand’. 21

The Soviet authorities were not merely destructive; nor were they
only thieves and rapists. Money was reintroduced as early as 8 May and -
in theory at least - Soviet soldiers had to stop pillaging and pay for their
purchases. 22 The work of clearing the rubble in the towns and cities may
have been a punishment, but there was sense behind it: only once the
smashed bricks and mortar were cleared could communications be
restored. In the first nine months of their occupation of Berlin, the Soviets
restored nearly 200,000 homes. In this they had the support and assistance
of Scharoun. They put back the tramlines, and the S-Bahn reopened as
early as 30 May.

The Russians began to promote the arts in Berlin that same month by
creating a Kanuner der Kunstschaffenden or Academy of Creative Artists
under the presidency of actor—director and star of Der Golem Paul Wegener.
The Academy had departments dealing with music, writing, theatre and
cinema. It had its own ‘star chamber’ with powers to rehabilitate National
Socialists. 23

Scharoun tried his best to preserve some of the city’s shattered monu¬
ments, such as the Schloss and the Reichstag. 24 For some time the future
of the damaged Prussian monuments hung in the balance. The Berlin
Schloss, the oldest parts of which dated back to the fifteenth century, and
which had been remodelled by the baroque architect Andreas Schliiter, had
been badly shelled during the Russian advance. Many parts were reparable,
but a debate soon grew up about the desirability of preserving relics of
Prussia’s militaristic past. For the time being the White Hall of the Schloss
was patched up and used for exhibitions. The best remembered of these
was ‘Berlin Plant’ or ‘Berlin Plans’, which opened on 22 August 1946. It
was organised by Scharoun himself and pointed the way forward to the
reconstruction of the city. It also made the case for keeping the modernised
carcass of the Schloss. Three months later the exhibition was replaced by
‘Modern French Painting’. This was to show Berliners the sort of paintings
that had been denied them as ‘degenerate’ by the Nazis. On 21 December
an exhibition organised by the earlier, avant-garde National Gallery direc¬
tor Ludwig Justi displayed the contents of some of the Berlin museums.
Many of the others were in the process of travelling east — to Russia. The
last exhibition to be organised in the ruins of the Royal Palace commem¬
orated the Revolution of 1848. 25 Scharoun argued the case for keeping the

206

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

Schliiter courtyard of the Schloss, if nothing else. In the end the ruling
SED not only decided against restoration, they actually destroyed the
monuments, starting with the Berlin Schloss in 1950 and continuing with
the Potsdam Schloss a decade later. The remains of the Garrison Church in
Potsdam were destroyed in 1968. 26

The preservation of Nazi monuments was also a sensitive issue. Speer
had been pleased to observe that his New Chancellery was still there. It
was, however, condemned: like all the surviving buildings on the western
side of the Wilhelmstrasse, it was demolished to make it easier for the
Soviets to patrol their sector. A photograph taken in April 1949 shows one
wing of Speers gigantic conception being torn down. The stone was used
to build the huge Soviet monument in Treptow Park. 27 In the interests of
‘security’ the Russians also pulled down all that was left of their side of the
Potsdamer and Leipziger Platze.

On the other hand demontage took its toll. Before the Western Allies
established camp in Berlin, more than a hundred companies were shipped
east. Berlin lost around 85 per cent of its industrial capacity, including
such weighty names as Siemens, AEG, Osram and Borsig. As demontage
the Russians took away a very large chunk of the industrial base of what
had been one of the most highly developed parts of Germany. By the
autumn of 1945 they had already dismantled 4,339 of the 17,024 major
installations in their zone. 28

Fritz Lowenthal was another Muscovite who returned to the SBZ in 1946.
As a communist lawyer he was placed at the head of a legal commission.
He fled to the West on 25 May 1947, taking with him a fat dossier detail¬
ing crime and corruption in the Soviet Zone. His account amounts to an
indictment of the Soviet authorities, and a justification for the young
idealist’s flight. Nazis were creeping back into positions of authority and all
sorts of unsuitable characters achieving local power-bases as a result of
toadying to the Soviet rulers.

The local judge at Lieberose, for example, turned out to be a former
cook called (of all things) Butter. On 3 January 1946 he was delivered up
to the police in Potsdam accused of fraud. A week later he was found hang¬
ing in his cell, but the apparent suicide was contradicted by the state of his
corpse — he had had his head beaten in, to stop him giving anything away
at his trial. 29 At Forst on the Neisse, there was a flourishing trade in con¬
traband across the new border with Poland. Germans, Poles and Russians
were all involved, and the need to prevent the military poking their noses
into the smuggling trade resulted in at least one murder. Elsewhere in

207

ALLIED ZONES

Germany corrupt Soviet officials sold grain to the Germans. Another
German who was able to hoodwink the Soviets into believing she was
anti-fascist was Sonja Kloss, the mayoress of Kolberg bei Storkau. She
turned out to be a former SS interpreter who was protecting her lover, an
erstwhile senior SS man. 30

Anyone was in danger of being denounced, as most people had a
skeleton in their closet. Muscovites and others who had co-operated
with the Soviet authorities in Russia were generally above suspicion. In
the sleepy town of Ruppin in the Mark Brandenburg, Landrat Dietrich
had denounced the teacher Schulze in Gransee, whom he accused of
having been an important leader in the Hitler Youth, and of seducing
young boys. Dietrich owed his position of power to the fact that he
had been on the committee of the Free Germany movement as a POW
in Russia. 31 In Oranienburg the local dictator was the senior judge, one
Fandrich, who uncovered a former Wehrmacht paymaster hiding
in his parish and had him consigned to the concentration camp at
Sachsenhausen which ‘the Russians had brought back to life’. It is not
known if he ever re-emerged. Fandrich, who employed his son as a spy,
was not all that he seemed: he was not a jurist, and he was not even
German. He spoke fluent Russian and had fought in the Russian
Imperial Army in the First World War. He had later lived as a merchant
in Warsaw. Like many people who achieved power in Germany just after
the war, Fandrich was a KZler. He had been in Sachsenhausen himself,
where he had worn the green badge of a criminal. His position in the
Soviet Zone allowed him to amass hordes of treasure handed over by
those who did not want their past examined in detail. On those who
were less considerate, he imposed prison sentences. By January 1947 he
had become over-confident of his position with the Russians. An order
was issued for his arrest, and, although he was given time to flee, he felt
he was not in danger. He was later put on trial and received a five-year
sentence. 32

Many criminals posed as ‘victims of fascism’ in this way, like Werner
Stahlberg, who had been released from the prison in Brandenburg, but
who had been a common criminal. A band led by a Russian-speaking
German Balt named Schroder carried out seventy-eight robberies in a
‘blue limousine’. They even robbed hospital patients of their valuables.
Schroder had begun his life of crime when his friend and protector ‘Dr’
Werner Zahn, Oberbiirgermeister of Potsdam, was arrested. Zahn was
another conrnan who had invented his doctorate. Before the war he had
sold cinema tickets. 33

208

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

Lowenthal lifted the lid on Thuringia. Goethes Ilmenau* was in the
hands of Paul Flieder, a former communist who had nonetheless achieved
high rank in the SS. With him installed in the town hall, fifty-one former
Nazis found gainful employment. In Weissensee near Erfurt power was in
the hands of one Hitkamp, another purported ‘victim of fascism’ who ran
a robber-band, conducting house-to-house searches and confiscating prop¬
erty. In Eisenach the CID (criminal police) officer Kirchner turned out to
have nine convictions of his own, while Reinhold Lettau, the police presi¬
dent who hired him, was an old Nazi. There could be tough sentences and
quite arbitrary killings for anyone who fell foul of the Soviets. The Military
Tribunal in Thuringia arraigned one man for being an intimate of the
former Gauleiter, Sauckel, on the strength of a round-robin found in his
home. In truth he was only the local Party cashier. He was tried by Russian
officers in the cinema and sentenced to be hanged. His sentence was com¬
muted by Stalin: he was shot instead. 34

In Saxony, Karl Keller, the Biirgermeister of Zschieschen, was another
‘green’ who had spent eight years in a concentration camp and could
boast thirty-two offences of theft and fraud. He was one of the lucky ones
who got out: the prison population — many of them rounded up after
the end of the war — was dying. When informed of the fact the Soviet
commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Jakupov, dismissed the matter as ‘human¬
itarian whingeing’. Another Russian officer complained of naked Germans
coming across the border from Czechoslovakia. They had been stripped,
then pushed over the frontier. The officer said the best he could do was put
them in a cellar. He had no clothes to give them. Some Russian officers
were living a good life. A Major Astafiev was reported enjoying a regime
unknown to tsarist courtiers or boyars: he had a woman to roll on each
stocking in the morning and another to hand him his dressing gown. 35
When in March 1947 the Soviet authorities pushed through land reform
in Saxony, 300,000 hectares were nationalised, but only 50,000 were
handed back to the peasants. The rest remained in the hands of the
state. Meanwhile life was cheap in Saxony. When on 16 February 1946
the Russians decided that informer Helene Mader was no longer useful
to them, the killer Zimmermann was paid the princely sum of 500
cigarettes. 36

In the new state of Sachsen-Anhalt, in Niegripp near Burg on the Elbe,
Josef Conrad passed as a political prisoner during his time in a concentra¬
tion camp. The Russians were happy with his credentials and made him

* The poet walked in the woods near by, as the town belonged to Weimar. It was here he
wrote ‘Uber alien Gipfeln’.

209

ALLIED ZONES

both Biirgermeister and police chief. They also gave him a gun and told
him to round up the former Pgs and liquidate them. Conrad engaged a
waiter with a record for theft named Walter Kraft and together they killed
the teacher Seewald, the treasurer Dehne, the landlord Fabian and the
agricultural worker Helmrich by putting a bullet in the backs of their
heads. Their bodies were robbed. 37

Rural Mecklenburg had formerly passed for the most reactionary corner
of Germany. After 1945 it was the ‘most bolshevised’, according to Fritz
Lowenthal. The head of the military government, General I. I. Fediunsky,
lambasted the Germans for their lack of efficiency. The Germans were
‘shirkers’. One local Soviet commander, Colonel Serebriensky, he dubbed
‘the prompter at the Schwerin pocket edition of the Moscow world the¬
atre’. Everything passed under his nose. It was presumably the colonel
who caused the disappearance of Willi Jesse, the provincial secretary of the
SED for Mecklenburg. Under his rule middle-class Mecklenburgers were
held back. At school they were not allowed to progress beyond the ninth
class or attend university. Some locals prospered under his reign, like the
notorious Wilhelm Stange, Landrat in Usedom, who exploited his office
to line his pockets. 38

Not all so-called communists were crooks, but there was no shortage of
people who came out of the woodwork in 1945 to claim that they had
been persecuted by Hitler’s regime, and who demanded privilege as a
result. The Muscovite Ackermann wryly observed that ‘It turned out that
in the Soviet Union there were fewer Bolsheviks than there were in
Hitlerite Germany.’ These former communists were jealous of the
Wehrmacht officers who were given positions of authority under the
Russians, especially those who had fought in Spain, or who had been in a
concentration camp, or both. 39

Although the raping of German women had abated in the summer of
1945, it had not stopped. There was a fresh outburst of wild raping when
the occupation lines were redrawn in June. The Russians moved into parts
of Saxony and Thuringia where up till then the women had lived in com¬
parative safety. There were a hundred rapes in Zerbst, the town that had
seen the birth of Russia’s great queen, Catherine, and similar numbers were
reported in Halle and Weimar. In Weimar a Russian lieutenant walked into
a barber’s shop and proceeded to rape the cashier in front of the cus¬
tomers. Two other Russian officers had to be found before ‘this animal
could be overpowered’. 40 Despite the availability of abortions, many half-
Russian children were born. In the US Ralph Keeling of the Institute of
American Economics in Chicago thundered against the Russo-Gennan

210

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

bastards and envisaged ‘Bolshevised Mongolian-Slavic hordes’. 41 Apart
from the soldiers, there were around two million former POWs and forced
labourers from Russia who had formed into gangs and robbed and raped
all over central Europe. 43

Real security was achieved only when the Red Army was garrisoned in
barracks buildings in 1947—8. Even later the Russians took over whole areas
of towns, throwing the inhabitants out on to the streets. From mid-1945,
however, Russians caught raping women were liable to punishment. They
might even suffer execution. Some were shot in the act, adding a further
trauma to the victim of the sexual assault. A scale of charges was introduced
in the summer of 1945, with ten days for debauchery and four years for
aggravated rape. No German could report the crimes, however. When a
group of young Germans prevented a rape by beating up the culprit, they
were arrested and charged with being Werewolves. It was only in 1949 that
Russian soldiers were presented with a real deterrent, with ten to fifteen years
for simple rape and ten to twenty for raping a child, and for group or aggra¬
vated rape. 43 The east Germans had been allowed their own police, but at the
beginning these men were armed with nothing more potent than clubs and
they were not encouraged to step in when the crime was being committed
by a Soviet soldier. They were given a small number of guns in mid-1946.

The other continuing nightmare of the Soviet Zone was that the pil¬
laging seemed unending. In Karlshorst pilfering was tolerated within
certain limits and according to rank. A squaddie might steal a watch, a
junior officer an accordion, but woe betide any of them who took more
than he should. Cars were useless - ‘you couldn’t hide a car’ — and besides,
it would have been nabbed by a superior officer. 44 Some choice things did
get stolen, especially if they could be consumed on the spot. One MVD
officer, for example, boasted of having some of the finest wines from
Goring’s cellar. 45

Worse than the full-scale removal of the industrial base of the land was
the abduction of men and women to develop industry in the Soviet Union.
Some of the more vital scientists had surrendered to the West; the scientists
who had created the Vi and V2 missiles at Peenemiinde, for example, gave
themselves up to the Americans in Bavaria. The Russians also found some
useful personnel and they were prepared to overlook a man’s Nazi past if the
scientist were prepared to work for them. They also lured them over with
the promise of better housing. Technicians working at the Oberspreewerk
in the west were offered homes in Hirschgarten near Kopenick. 46

At first the Russians were successful in attracting scientists. The
Germans were less enthusiastic when the round-ups began. They took

211

ALLIED ZONES

place two days after abortive elections on 20 October 1946, when the
SED had been soundly beaten. Soldiers came at 3.00 a.m. to deport all the
leading electricians, toolmakers and engineers. The men and women were
informed, ‘By order of the Russian High Command you have been
mobilised for work in the Soviet Union. You are to leave at once, with
your family. Your furniture and personal belongings will be moved to your
new residence. The length of your stay will not exceed five years.’ 47 The
size of the operation meant that they had not finished by five that after¬
noon. One of the places the Russians cordoned off that morning was
Hirschgarten.

The Russians were able to take their pick of the skilled workers from
GEMA (which manufactured range-finders and sights), ETEM (which
made guidance equipment), AEG Kabelwerk (which created radio trans¬
mitters), OKG-4 (which made automatic pilots) and Askania (the radar
manufacturers). Some of the Germans refused to go. In Halle they literally
had to be clubbed into submission. Ninety-two special trains were laid on
to transport the 5,000 men, women and children. Some of them were
indeed back within five years, some came back in 1953. A few stayed until
January 1958, about the time the first Sputnik went into orbit. German sci¬
entists were the fathers of both missile programmes, American and
Russian. 48 The SBZ did not necessarily approve of the kidnapping of these
vital workers, but they had no control over the military An attempt was
made to stop the dismantling of Zeiss and the Schott optical works, but it
was to no avail. 49

The Russians also seized Walter Riedel of the glassworks of that name
in Czechoslovakia. Riedel had invented fibreglass and worked on lenses
and prism glass. His large-size picture tubes were used by the Luftwaffe as
monitoring devices during the war. The Russians deemed Riedel a scien¬
tific VIP and ‘invited’ him to go to Russia after the war. He worked in a
laboratory for a decade before he was allowed to go home. His firm had
been seized by the Czechs. His son, Claus, had escaped detention in
Austria and with the help of the Swarovski family was able to start up the
family business again in Tyrolean Kufstein. 50

Until 1946 it was theoretically impossible to cross into the Russian
Zone without an ‘Interzone Pass’. It was a risky business, not least because
of the danger of arrest or, for women, of rape by border guards. Despite
that many people braved the unmanned ‘Green Border’ in order to reach
their families. Margret Boveri crossed to her native Franconia, and Ursula
von Kardorff managed to make it from Berlin, despite being shot at by
Russian border guards. Some guards were more accessible, and were

212

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

bought off with bottles of schnapps. The first sight of Russian rule in the
east came as a shock. Germans wishing to travel had to get used to sitting
on the roofs of trains, while Russians in clean uniforms occupied the half-
empty carriages. In tunnels you learned to lie flat and keep your head
down. The station signs were written in Cyrillic script, and policemen’s
hats were embellished with the red star.

The life of the Gulag could be experienced in the Erzgebirge on the
Czech border. This was another part of Germany that had originally fallen
to Pattons soldiers. The Americans retreated to Mulde on 12 May, but the
Russians were slow to take their places and did not get there before the end
of June. The Russians learned that the region contained uranium ore.
This was an important discovery as ‘the Kremlin urgently requires atom
bombs for its peace policies’. Initially 10,000 men, later 20,000 men and
women, were forced to work in the mines; many of them were ethnic
Germans from Hungary who were driven to work with kicks and beatings,
and cries of‘Davai! Davai!’ (Come on, move). Some of the women were
whipped.

At the beginning of 1947 the whole western half of the region was cor¬
doned off. More and more forced labourers were brought in. Some
20,000—30,000 Saxons were not deemed enough and recruiting offices
were set up throughout the SBZ to procure the 75,000 men the Russians
felt they needed. POWs returning from the east were sent straight off to the
Erzgebirge, where they lived in makeshift barracks and tent camps similar
to the places they had just left. The camps were at a great distance from the
mines, and the workers had to rise at 3 a.m. to start the three-hour jour¬
ney to the pithead. The work brought the men into contact with
carcinogenic material and 20,000 people are believed to have died prema¬
turely as a result of working in the mines. As it was eight men died in one
week. The results were positive for the Soviets, however: on 23 August
1949 they were able to detonate their first atom bomb, using uranium from
the mines at Wismut. 51

In May 1945 the purging and recreation of the police force was the most
important item on the agenda. At first the force was dominated by
unarmed Socialist Party members, as the Allies had stipulated that the
Germans were not to be issued with weapons. This made them vulnerable
to the bands of armed bandits. K-5 was the name of the political police
which took over some of the functions of the Gestapo and would turn in
time into the Ministry of State Security, or ‘Stasi’. The man behind it was
Erich Mielke, a communist who had fled to Moscow after killing a police¬
man. There were already over 80,000 police in the SBZ by September

213

ALLIED ZONES

1947. 52 If Mielke’s Stasi was to be the recreation of the Gestapo, another
Nazi institution was to be rapidly dusted down and put back to work: the
Hider Youth. The youngish Erich Honecker was given the job of forming
the FDJ, or Freie Deutsche Jugend.

Even more sinister were the many camps and prisons. Some of these had
been simply carried over from Nazi times, like Sachsenhausen and
Buchenwald. The Russian general Dratvin explained the facts to some
British visitors: ‘The [Nazi] camps have been liquidated, but the buildings
are being used for housing fascist criminals who have committed crimes
against our country.’ 53 The traditional Nazi camps were joined by new cre¬
ations like Hohenschonhausen in Berlin, which was also in a Soviet
residential ghetto. It was here that Otto Grotewohl, SPD leader in the
Soviet Zone, lived surrounded by Russians and barbed wire. Then there
was Jamlitz was near Lieberose in the Uckermark, Forst in the Lausitz,
Roitzsch-Bitterfeld, Frankfurt-an-der-Oder, Ketschendorf near Beeskow
in the Mark, Neubrandenburg, Miihlberg on the Oder, Bautzen,
Altenhain (which was used for Russian deserters and former members of
Vlasov’s army), Stern-Buchholz near Schwerin and the old POW camp at
Torgau which had been turned into a political prison. Hardened cases
were transferred to the Soviet Union.

The new (and old) camps were called ‘Spetzlager’, or ‘special camps’. At
Christmas 1946 there were 15,000 prisoners in Buchenwald and around
16,000 in Sachsenhausen. Sachsenhausen, or Spetzlager no. 7, was closed
down in the early 1950s. Later fifty mass graves were discovered there
which were thought to have been dug after the war, containing around
12,500 bodies. Most of the dead had perished from hunger or disease;
about thirty-five to forty inmates died every day in the winter of 1946—7.
Death began with the over-sixties, who perished from dropsy. When they
had succumbed it was the turn of the fifty-year-olds. In the winter of 1946
to 1947 even the forty-somethings died in droves. Camp 3,
Hohenschonhausen had about 3,000 prisoners, Fiirstenwalde 6,000, and
Camp 4, Bautzen 18,000. Russian estimates show that, of the 122,671
Germans who passed though the camps, 42,889 died - that is, more than
a third. Only 756 were actually shot. 54

German figures are roughly double the Russian tally: 240,000. Of these
a higher figure of 95,643 perished — over 40 per cent. In these revisions
there were 60,000 prisoners at Sachsenhausen, of whom just over half
died; a little over 30,000 at Buchenwald, where a little under half did not
survive the experience; and 30,000 at Bautzen, where 16,700 died. 55
Anyone who was suspected of Nazi sympathies was liable to incarceration;

214

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

and a good many monarchists and conservatives were thrown in too. The
chief sugar manufacturers — twelve in all — were sent to a camp. One sur¬
vived. Quite a lot of young people who had been in the Hitler Youth or
the girls’ equivalent, the BdM, were sent to the camps. For the major
landowners and Junkers there was Rtigen. 56 Added to the perils of life in
the Russian concentration camp, Nacht und Nebel abductions had claimed
another 5,431 Germans by November 1947, of whom 1,255 were youths. 57

For all its dangers the Soviet Zone, like the Democratic Republic that
succeeded it, offered a sort of daily life provided the citizen was not too
demanding. There were times when the inhabitants of SBZ were better fed
than the Germans in the West, but this did not prevent them from com¬
plaining, as in this parody of the nationalist anthem ‘Deutschland liber
alles’:

Deutschland, Deutschland, ohne
alles

Ohne Butter, ohne Fett
Und das bischen Marmelade
Frisst uns die Verwaltung weg.
Hande falten, Kopfe sinken,
Immer an die Einheit denken.

Germans, Germans lacking
everything

Lacking butter, lacking fat
The modicum of marmalade
Is mopped up by our brass hats.
Bow your head in humility,

Lie back, think of Unity.

Culture

Two heroic figures emerged in the Russian Zone to promote a brief flow¬
ering of the arts after May 1945. They were Johannes R. Becher and the
Russian art historian Colonel Alexander Dymshitz. Becher was just behind
the front line, ready to implement a policy elaborated in Moscow, but once
again it was not necessarily an exclusively Marxist—Leninist approach. As
early as 30 April 1945 Ulbricht issued a list of writers who were welcome
to publish in the Soviet Zone. They were all exiles from Nazism: Anna
Seghers, Lion Feuchtwanger, Thomas and Heinrich Mann, Arnold Zweig
and Bertolt Brecht. 58

The Russians actively promoted not just socialist theatre, ballet, opera
and cinema; they promoted bourgeois arts as well. This was in keeping
with Anton Ackermann’s programme penned in Moscow in June, that the
Soviet system was wrong for Germany, and that it needed to be reorgan¬
ised on broad, anti-fascist, democratic principles instead. The programme
had to be in place before the Western Allies arrived for the meeting in
Potsdam. For the first three years after the war, there were no real cultural

215

ALLIED ZONES

divisions in the capital, and the Soviet Zone continued to take the lead in
cultural matters. 59 Becher returned to Berlin after twelve years and three
months of exile on n June 1945. Ulbricht had approved his role; he was
‘necessary for the work among the intellectuals’. 60

Becher found his house in Zehlendorf intact, if not quite habitable. He
went off to live in Dahlem, in the home of the Nazi banker Emil Georg
von Strauss. He immediately began to invite old friends over to discuss
getting intellectual life going again in the city. This was to become the
steering committee for the Kulturbund zur demokratischen Erneuerung
Deutschlands (Cultural Alliance for the Democratic Renewal of Germany).
It was meant to function in all four zones. Becher put down his thoughts
on Berlin in a letter to his wife Lily, whom he had left behind in Moscow.
‘It is really enough to make you howl . . . and Berlin is Berlin. Despite
everything you are not coming back to a strange place. Children sing
German, mothers speak German — and the trees on the streets and the
green on the balconies - I am overjoyed, my most beloved, and the only
galling thing is that you are not beside me!’ 61 On 3 July the Alliance was
launched at a party for 1,500 people in the hall of Broadcasting House in
the Masurenallee. Becher spoke: ‘We have enough German tragedies in our
history, more than enough, now we want to finally bring an end to
German tragedies . . .’ In the next two years he went a long way towards
creating that renewal until the Cold War made bourgeois writers unwel¬
come in the SBZ.

As the Allies prepared to celebrate their meeting in Potsdam, the
Russians reopened the Variete Theatre and in a cinema opposite they
screened the film Dr Mamlock. Where no specific building existed, the
Russians turned over municipal premises to theatre and cinema. A tri¬
umphal arch had been set up in Berlin’s Frankfurter Allee, which was later
to become one of the showpieces of Stalinist architecture. As part of the
festivities Wilhelm Furtwangler gave a concert in which Mendelssohn’s
music was played.* All these events received the hearty approval of Bersarin.
Few Berliners, however, knew they were happening. There were as yet no
newspapers, and communication was by word of mouth.

The Soviet cultural supremo was Colonel Sergey Tulpanov, head of the
Political Department of the Soviet Military Administration. He wanted to
prove that the Russians were not quite as barbaric as May 1945 had seemed
to suggest. 62 They tended to look after the German artists and show them
respect, while the Western Allies cavilled, treated them like unrepentant

* Mendelssohn s music had been taken out of mothballs by Leo Borchard. See above p. 120.

216

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

Nazis and refused to shake their hands. Tulpanov was a huge, ursine pres¬
ence, whom George Clare compared to Hermann Goring, many of whose
cultural offices Tulpanov had taken over. By April 1946 more than a hun¬
dred theatres had opened in the SBZ, performing classics such as Lessings
Nathan der Weise, Moliere’s Tartuffe and works by Offenbach, as well as
Russian pieces. Tulpanov was abetted by Dymshitz. It was Dymshitz who
was behind Die Mowe, the artists’ and writers’ club that opened in the old
Biilow Palace in the Soviet Sector and provided literary and artistic
Berliners with a decent meal, comfort and rest. Later they had the prem¬
ises of the old Berlin Club that Becher turned into an artists’ colony with
the parquet from Hitler’s Chancellery. Here authors ate unrationed food
and kept out of the cold. 63

Dymshitz was a highly cultured man of Jewish origin from St
Petersburg. He had grown up in a house with a Steinway and a library. He
had spoken German, French and English from childhood and attended the
German Reform School, the best in the city before the Great War. He
went on to develop a fondness for the avant garde as a student in the
1920s. He had little rapport with the Anglo-Americans, but he had a cer¬
tain amount of support from the French cultural boffin, Felix Lusset.
When the Anglo-Americans outlawed Becher’s Kulturbund in their sec¬
tors, Lusset refused to follow suit. 64

Like Goring, Tulpanov could tolerate satire provided he found it funny.
He revelled in the performances of Gunter Neumann, who was reviving
Berlin cabaret at Ulenspiegel in Berlin. Like the Schaubiihne in Munich,
Ulenspiegel was a stage licensed to poke fun at the Allies. Even the Nazis
had tolerated some small degree of satire in this form. As George Clare put
it, Neumann lashed out at all the Allies, but without a ‘trace of German
self-pity’. He poked fun at frat, and the desperation to which German girls
were driven by hunger:

Johnny took me like a lady
And we traded - nothing shady,

Two pounds of coffee so I’d do it.

Fruit-juice cans so I’d renew it.

Hot we got with burning skins
For a couple of corned-beef tins
But for chocolate — Hershey bar
I went further much than far.

Carl Zuckmayer admired the Russian contribution to the arts at the
time. The most prestigious theatre in the Russian Sector was the

217

ALLIED ZONES

Admiralspalast, which had survived the bombing unscathed and now
played host to the State Opera. Zuckmayer found the singers less impres¬
sive than their counterparts in New York, but on the other hand he was
very struck by the talents of the young directors and artists who designed
the performances. 65 Of the Western Allies, only the American theatre
chief Benno Frank came anywhere near him. He had been a prominent
German Jewish actor and director before 1933. Their British counterpart
was Pat Lynch, a Cork-man and one-time prepschool master with a fond¬
ness for Wagner. It was only much later that the Westerners learned by
their mistakes and began to open cinemas and theatres in their sectors. 66

Becher’s office as president of the Cultural Alliance was in
Schliiterstrasse 45, just off the Kurfurstendamm in the British Zone. The
honorary president was Hauptmann. When Hauptmann died and the Poles
could finally dispose of his corpse, Becher, Tulpanov and Pieck travelled to
Stralsund on the Baltic coast. Becher pronounced the obsequy over the late
writer’s coffin: ‘According to your wishes, may you be laid to earth before
sunrise, to become a symbol of German promise! May your decease
become the turning point.’ 67 Schliiterstrasse 45 had an interesting history.*
After the Nazi cultural association, the RKK or Reichskulturkammer, had
been bombed out of its premises in the centre of the city, it had moved
here. The building still contained all the files relating to artistic activity in
the Third Reich, and, in the basement, the painting collection of the
Jewish community. Now it became the rallying point for the starving
artists of the occupation who came to Becher for shelter and ration cards. 68
In Becher’s time the house contained the ‘Spruchkammer’, a sort of Star
Chamber where German artists were examined for their reliability by a
panel composed of the four powers. It was headed by the British major
Kaye Sely — born Karl Seitz in Munich.

Becher’s success was so great at this time that even Thomas Mann con¬
descended to come to him to request a favour for one of his wife’s relatives,
Hans von Rohrscheidt, who was being roughly handled by the Soviet
authorities. In return Becher wanted Mann to bring his influence to bear
in getting CARE packets for his writers. Becher was trying to bring them
all home: Doblin had returned (he was in Baden-Baden, working for the
French) but Anna Seghers, the Manns, Herzfeld and Feuchtwanger were all
hesitating. It was the time of the well-publicised dispute between Thomas
Mann and two writers who had stayed in Germany, Walter von Molo and
Franz Thiess. Thiess had said it was natural to remain in Germany, and

* And future: it is now the popular Hotel Bogota.

218

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

pointed out that it had been harder to remain than to enjoy a comfortable
life in exile like Mann. Manns son Klaus called Thiess ‘repulsive’: he had
come to terms with the Nazis and earned a packet working on film scripts.
Becher tried to pour oil on the troubled waters, issuing another invitation:
‘Come home, you are expected.’ On 22 November 1945 he launched an
appeal to the emigres. He did not share Mann’s view that books published
during the Third Reich were worthless, and refused to allow his writings
to appear in a volume of exile literature. He saw no virtue in exile: it was
‘bitter necessity’, no more. It was an attitude that made him unpopular
with those who had emerged from the concentration camps. 69

With Becher at the helm, and with the backing of Tulpanov for the time
being, the Soviet Zone took a pragmatic approach to denazification in the
arts. Zhukov had not believed that Hauptmann had resisted the Nazis, but
he had given him his entire protection, keeping both his own soldiers and
the Poles offhim while he eked out his last days. The Americans were after
Furtwangler’s blood. He had been a Prussian state councillor under the
Nazis — a wholly honorary position given out to a few cultural and intel¬
lectual worthies who toed the line.* Furtwangler had taken refuge in
Switzerland at the end of the war, partly as a result of his fears for his safety.
He had been close to some of the men who were executed after the July
Plot. As the war drew to a close the Swiss had turned on him and he had
fled to Austria in the autumn of 1945. He was summoned back by the
Russians in February 1946 to take over his old job at the Berlin
Philharmonic. Up to then the reins had been held by Leo Borchard, and by
the temperamental thirty-three-year-old Sergiu Celibidache.

‘Celi’ had taken over the Philharmonic just six days after Borchard’s
death. He was even more obscure than his predecessor: an unknown
Romanian who had arrived in Berlin in the mid-i930s to study compos¬
ition under Heinz Tiessen. Before he was relieved of his post by the
triumphal return of Furtwangler, ‘Celi’ conducted the BPO no fewer than
108 times. The Allies saw him as a ‘political virgin’ and, while disputes
raged about all the other conductors who were to some extent tainted by
Nazism, there was no argument about him. 70

As the Philharmonic had been gutted, ‘Celi’ performed in the Titania
Palast in Berlin-SteglitzJ the Theater des Westens by the Zoo, the Radio
Station and other intact buildings in Dahlem, Tegel and Wedding. He also

* The process of humiliating the great conductor was admirably dramatised in Ronald
Harwood s play Taking Sides.

f A modernistic cinema constructed in the 1920s. It is still there, although it was severely
altered in the 1960s.

219

ALLIED ZONES

performed in other German cities standing in for Furtwangler, who was
the subject of particularly petty attacks by Allied officials — chiefly
American. Before Furtwangler could perform in the Western Allied Zones,
he had to receive his Persilschein — a clean bill of political health — in
Vienna, Wiesbaden and Berlin. Vienna presented him with few problems,
but at the American HQ in Wiesbaden they were reluctant to exonerate
him. There was a persistent clamour from back home, especially from
Thomas Manns daughter Erika. He could only proceed to the higher
court in Berlin in December 1946. He was finally absolved in April 1947.
During that time Celibidache stood in for him, but according to
Furtwangler’s widow relations between the two of them were always
good. 71

Furtwangler returned to Berlin in a Russian aircraft on 10 March 1946,
landing at the Adlershof airfield in the Soviet Zone. He was received in all
pomp by Becher. The Russians provided him with the Pheasantry, his old
grace-and-favour residence in the park at Sans Souci in Potsdam. His faith¬
ful housekeeper was waiting for him, and so was his piano. The West
objected to his performing, however, and his appearance at the concert in
the Radio Station had to be scrapped. That day the orchestra was directed
by Celibidache.

Furtwangler had already been cleared by a denazification court in
Austria and thought that the pardon would be granted automatically in
Berlin. The Americans in the person of General McClure, however, were
not prepared to give in so easily and they reminded the other Allies that
Furtwangler needed an American licence to perform at the Philharmonie,
which was in their sector, and that all Prussian state councillors had been
banned from public life under Control Council Directive No. 24. This
didn’t much impress the Russians, who offered Furtwangler the director¬
ship of the Lindenoper, which lay in their territory. They even whipped up
a press campaign to bring him back, embellishing their Berliner Zeitung on
16 February 1946 with the headline ‘Berlin calls Wilhelm Furtwangler’.
The conductor refused to be wooed. Knowing that acceptance meant
kissing goodbye to the BPO, he declined the offer. 72

Furtwangler had never been a Pg, but there were plenty of conductors
who had: Karajan, Knappertsbusch, Krauss and the chief conductor of the
Berlin City Opera, the Austrian Leopold Ludwig. Ludwig had denied his
Party membership on the Fragebogen and had been sentenced to a year’s
imprisonment by the British Military Government. Ludwig was not only
a Pg — like Karajan he had joined in Austria where membership was il¬
legal. 73 Knappertsbusch had actually been a protege of Eva Braun’s, who

220

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

was attracted to the conductors ‘boyish good looks’. Hitler had not held
him in high regard, claiming he was ‘no better than a military band¬
leader’. The Fiihrer did not like Karajan either, because the conductor did
not use a score and failed to spot the errors of the singers. He would have
pushed Karajan aside had he not been protected by Goring. Such was the
Third Reich. 74

The Russians ceased any pretence at taking denazification seriously for
the arts scene. The civilised Captain Alexander Gouliga was replaced by an
obstreperous Sub-lieutenant Levin who apparently did not even speak
German. The Allied culture boffins had their last meeting with Gouliga in
the House of Soviet Culture where a splendid feast had been prepared:
goblets of Crimean champagne were served by two old German waiters
with Hitler moustaches ‘who looked like a couple of ex-Gauleiters recently
released from a Russian internment camp’. After the sparkling wine came
vodka and beer. Salads were succeeded by smoked fish and caviar, caviar by
stuffed eggs, cold meats and sausages — and those were just the zakuski.
Bortsch and stroganoff and orange cream rounded off the feast. 75

As far as opera was concerned, both the Stadtische Oper and the
Lindenoper had been outhoused due to bomb damage. Berlin’s City Opera
was now in the Theater des Western, while the Lindenoper was in the
Admiralspalast in the Friedrichstrasse. Although the former was in the
British Sector, the audiences for both opera houses were principally
Russian. Neither was open to mere Germans. The night George Clare
went to the Theater des Westens in 1946 there was a handful of British offi¬
cers and two NCOs (himself and his friend), together with a ‘sprinkling’ of
Americans and a ‘pride’ of Frenchmen. The rest of the audience was made
up of Russians and their wives. The Soviets allowed officers to import
wives and children, which was forbidden for the time being among the
Western Allies — hence the need for frat. 76

As ever, music had a powerful effect on the Berliners, who had braved
the bombs to hear the BPO perform during the war. Margret Boveri
remembered her first concert after the war. She heard a choral work of
Bruckner’s in a ‘ruinous hall in [Berlin-]Zehlendorf’. It gave rise to floods
of tears brought on by years of suppressed and concealed emotions. 77
When after two years of trials Furtwangler received his Persilschein on 30
April 1947 and was able to conduct ‘his’ orchestra once again on Whit
Sunday (25 May), the audience clapped for fifteen minutes, summoning
him back to the rostrum sixteen times. It had been an all-Beethoven pro¬
gramme — the overture to Egmont, and the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies.
Erika Mann carped: it was not the old Philharmonic, but the purged

221

ALLIED ZONES

version that had survived the Third Reich, and even then it had been
under-rehearsed. The conductor replied to her father, modestly pointing
out that fifteen minutes’ applause was not unusual for Beethoven in
Berlin. 78 One Jew who wholeheartedly stood by Furtwangler throughout
the crisis was Yehudi Menuhin. Menuhin, who performed the Beethoven
violin concerto with the conductor on 28 September 1947, was anxious to
break the boycott of Furtwangler in America. Fie demonstratively gave the
conductor his hand, and was treated as a traitor in America as a result. 79

Brecht, Eisler and Heinrich Mann looked on from their places of exile,
but theatre prospered. Many theatres had been spared the Anglo-American
bombing, and Berlin was in a position to put on plays from the start.
Hilde Spiel was awestruck: ‘What remains is the world of the theatre.
Only here do they [the Berliners] continue to eat and drink, love without
worry and die without cause, swagger, croon, charm, laugh. Only here do
the porters still strut about and the candles still flicker in ornate chandeliers,
only here do the cigars glimmer and the wines flow.’ 80

The Hebbel Theatre performed the Dreigroschenoper from 8 August
1945. A few days later Ruth Friedrich went along to the ‘Saarlandstrasse,
alias Stresemannstrasse, alias Konigsgratzerstrasse’ — her litany of purges did
not include the last one: the Hermann-Goring-Strasse - and found an
immense queue and the idea of ‘beggar’s opera’ right and fitting for the
Berliners. The line ‘Grub first, then morality’ seemed particularly apposite
to Ursula von Kardorffwhen she went at the beginning of October. 81 The
Hebbel Theatre also honoured the poets and writers of the ‘System time’ -
as Hitler dismissed the Weimar period: Toller, Tucholsky, Brecht, Heinrich
Mann, Erich Miihsam, Lion Feuchtwanger, Leonhard Frank and Ludwig
Rubener. 82 The Hebbel, however, was not all it seemed: it was in the
American Sector. Brecht was not altogether kosher as far as the Russians
were concerned. ‘Grub first, then morality’ did not suit them; they wanted
it the other way round. It did not accord with notions of collective guilt
either. Brecht would have to wait for his reconciliation with the Soviet
authorities. 83

The most famous man of Berlin theatre, Gustaf Griindgens, was another
state councillor, and was suffering from the same blanket ban as
Furtwangler. Once again, the Russians took no notice, and restored him to
power as Intendant at the German Theatre. Griindgens might have been
deemed to have suffered enough already. He had been arrested as
Generalintendant of the Prussian State Theatres, because - it was said — his
Russian captors had believed his rank to have been a military one, and
spent nine months in Russian camps. Colleagues had finally persuaded

222

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

Bersarin that Grtindgens was no soldier, but the difficulty then was to find
him: the Russians kept no reliable records of the people interned in their
camps and gulags. Once freed, he became a Russian baby and benefited
from their aegis, to the degree that they denazified him themselves on 27
April 1946, and declared his character without a stain. Grtindgens returned
to work, despite all attempts on the part of the Western Allies to prevent
him. His first role was in Carl Sternheim’s satire Der Snob. It was a great
occasion; ‘an event, the most important by far in early post-war Berlins
social and cultural life’. Despite the poverty that raged all around, ticket-
touts were able to charge up to RM 1,000 for a seat. 84

Becher wanted to make the Soviet Zone a refuge for all writers. Authors
were given category-I ration cards. He rescued Rudolf Ditzen, tried to
wean him off the alcohol that was killing him and provided him with a
theme for a novel so that he might start work again. Ditzen’s young wife
was addicted to morphine, which was provided by another writer, the poet
and physician Gottfried Benn, who like Ditzen-Fallada, had made no
attempt to emigrate after 1933. 85 The Ditzens were found a place to live in
the Soviet enclave of Pankow and were even brought toys and a goose at
Christmas — all of which failed to prevent a drunken Ditzen from having
a go at the Muscovite Party chairman Pieck at a drinks party that month.

The rehabilitation of writers like Ditzen in the Soviet Zone led to a set-
to with the Anglo-Americans and JCS 1067. Ditzen-Fallada was anything
but squeaky clean, and had earned a handsome crust under the Nazis. The
British denazifiers sniffed and the Western press cavilled. In Munich the
writer Hans Habe called one of his novels a work of fascist literature. This
led to difficulties in obtaining a licence across the Elbe and in resuming
contact with his publishers abroad. 86 The Russians also cast a surprisingly
benign eye over publishing in their zone at first. For more than forty years
the Aufbau Verlag shone a beacon of light — sometimes bright, sometimes
dim — from the former premises of the bank Delbrtick, Schickler & Co. in
the Franzosischestrasse.* The house was created on 16 August 1945, under
Becher’s protecting hand. Becher had been planning new publications
even in his exile. Less doctrinaire than most of his colleagues, he believed
that the Germans had to admit collective guilt, but was less literal in his
interpretation of the Soviet canon. He ensured that the press received the
necessary licence from the Soviet authorities. The running of the press was
taken over by another Muscovite and long-term Communist Party
member, Erich Wendt, in 1947.

* From which it was evicted when the building returned to its original owners in 1995.

223

ALLIED ZONES

Becher was elected to the central committee of the SED in April 1946,
but some people in the Berlin Kremlin did not believe he was a
Marxist—Leninist at all. He certainly did not turn up to all the meetings.
The ‘Tulip’ had abandoned him. As Tulpanov put it tactfully after Becher’s
death, in Berlin ‘Nothing remained of the modesty of the war years. He
was at home, completely at home, and he quite naturally expressed the
view that he knew better than we did how to order the German house.’ 87
Becher was still protected by Vladimir Semionov and Dymshitz. Dymshitz
told Tulpanov that the Cultural Alliance was not meant to be an ideo¬
logical organisation. Tulpanov stayed his hand for the time being, but
Alexander Abusch was placed beside the poet in the organisation as the
head of the ‘ideological division’, to keep an eye on him. The SBZ made
sure that the press could dip into Russian reserves of paper and board for
the book covers. Once again it was Dymshitz who restrained the censor,
Captain Filippov. In 1945—6, only one book fell foul of the Russian
authorities, and that was Gunther Weisenborn’s Berliner Requiem. Here not
even Becher’s intercession could persuade the Soviets to allow publication
of a work that centred on the misery of the Berliners in the first post-war
days. 88

The Aufbau Verlag’s earliest publications were Becher’s Manifest des
Kulturbundes zur demokratischen Erneuerung Deutschlands and the first number
of the cultural and political periodical Aufbau. Neither was calculated to
run counter to the ideals of the Russian Zone or to excite the censor
Captain Filippov. A year later the Kulturbund published its own weekly in
Sonntags, with a print-run of 200,000. The Aufbau, however, was not just
a printing press for radical texts: before the year was out it had published
eleven books, including works by Georg Lukacs, Max Hermann-Neisse,
Theodor Pliever — whose documentary novel Stalingrad achieved sales of
177,000, not including those sold under licence to West German houses -
and Heinrich Heine, all of them authors who had the distinction of being
banned by the Nazis. Heine was the only dead author, and the most emi¬
nent of them all. 89

Becher came to the conclusion that Aufbau should not be the publisher
of exile-literature, so in 1946 he changed the policy to include writers who
had remained in Germany throughout the Nazi years, but who were not
tarred with the brush of Nazism. They included Ernst Wiechert, Hans
Fallada, Gerhart Hauptmann and Ernst Niekisch. As Germany polarised at
the onset of the Cold War, some of the non-communist writers were
pushed out of the list, while others chose to remove themselves.

Censorship was formally introduced by the Russian authorities in

224

LIFE IN THE RUSSIAN ZONE

January 1947, but that year the Aufbau was still printing works by non¬
communist authors such as Egon Erwin Kisch and Lion Feuchtwanger, as
well as Victor Klemperer’s study in the Nazi abuse of language, LTI. The
Aufbau only became wholly ideological in its policy once the Western
Allies put through currency reform. Among other things, the move meant
a serious loss of income for the East German publishing house. After 1948
the size of the editions diminished considerably. Many of the Aufbau
authors also belonged to the Cultural Alliance. Other members included
Anna Seghers, Ricarda Huch and the painters Otto Nagel and Karl Hofer.

One of Becher’s projects was to create a new artists’ colony at the sea¬
side resort of Ahrenshoop as the Cultural Alliance’s Summer Academy on
the Baltic. The Nazis who had been living there were flushed out and a
children’s home was created so that writers would be unencumbered with
parental duties. Becher wanted to build up a new, anti-fascist intellectual
elite. 90 The desire to ‘make Germans out of Germans’ by reintroducing
them to their art and literature — some of which had been banned under
the Nazis - sadly gave way to more blatant Soviet propaganda after 1947
and Becher was unable to contain the ideological tide. Performances of
Schiller and Mozart were replaced by Pushkin and Gogol, Chekhov,
Rimsky-Korsakov, Tchaikovsky and Chopin. That might have been toler¬
able in its way, but soon that too was pushed aside in favour of modern
plays which stressed the value of Soviet culture and the evilness of its
Western equivalent. Plays had to show the Soviet Union in a positive light.
Even Becher came under suspicion for a while until he saved his skin by
writing a few poetic encomiums to ‘the great Stalin’. The drama put on
after 1947 was every bit as tedious as the American plays performed in the
US Zone. 91

On 21—22 May 1946 the Cultural Alliance held a congress with
Tulpanov present. Becher sailed close to the wind again. In a speech he
questioned Soviet policy: ‘demontage and reparations make most people
doubt whether they will still be able to lead a tolerable life’. He called for
more responsibility to be given to Germans to govern their own lives. The
speech did not go down well. 92 He pushed on regardless. The first German
writers’ congress was held in the Hebbel Theatre (in the American Zone)
at the beginning of October. As many as 250 writers came, including
Ricarda Huch, but some of the fleurons still evaded his grasp: there was no
sign of the Manns, Brecht or Feuchtwanger. Becher called for unity — there
was no peace without it. A split Germany was not a Germany at peace. He
revealed his hand as an idealist for a united Germany The congress was the
first and last of its kind. 93 Two years later the Cultural Alliance held a

225

ALLIED ZONES

congress which brought together artists and writers from East and West to
denounce McCarthyist America. 94 The Western Allies had already dis¬
owned Becher, and they kicked him out of the Schliiterstrasse at the end
of the year.

The crack was coming and many of the writers who had found a
Gemutlichkeit in the Soviet Zone were leaving: Pliever went to Munich,
Ricarda Huch to Frankfurt-am-Main. Becher was unfairly accused of
being behind the abduction of the journalist Dieter Friede. He was having
to defend the system more and more. When Eugen Kogon (who had
been in Buchenwald) compared the Russian camps to the Nazi ones,
Becher told him the comparison was absurd. The Western Allies refused
him a pass to travel in their zones. At the end of the year Pieck was
describing Becher as a ‘political ignoramus’. Becher offered to resign in
December. His letter was signed pathetically ‘Mit sozialistischem Gruss!’
(With socialist greetings!), 95 an unfortunate reminder of the Nazi formula.
He had been broken; he was one of the first great casualties of the Cold
War.

226

Life in the American Zone

They send us chicken feed and expect us to say thank you.

Johannes Semler. Quoted in Volker Hentschel, Ludwig Erhard,
ein Politikerleben, Munich and Landsberg am Lech 1996, 51

T he American Military Government in Frankfurt-am-Main was housed
‘in the conquerors’ part of the city’ in one of the sand-coloured sky¬
scrapers beyond the main railway station which made up the HQ of IG
Farben and which appeared as an oasis in the middle of the rubble. You
needed a special pass to approach it and, if you were lucky enough to dis¬
cover a way in, you found it filled with what the American novelist John
Dos Passos refers to as ‘chicken colonels’* or pen-pushers.

Dos Passos had lunch there in November 1945. A German maid called
them to the table. He ate venison steak and drank first-rate burgundy 1 - a
very different bill of fare to that endured by the helots who milled about
outside, fetching twigs in prams to heat their stoves. They called the place
‘GI Farben Haus’ and gave it a wide berth. Visitors might catch an occa¬
sional glimpse of the god of war himself, General Eisenhower,
accompanied by his Irish mistress Kay Summersby. With some exagger¬
ation excused by the passing of time she wrote that the IG Farben building
was ‘a small city in itself. It was very elegant - lots of marble and fountains
and indoor flower gardens, great curving staircases and very luxurious
offices, several tennis courts could have fitted into Ike’s office .t Bouquets of
fresh spring flowers were placed in our offices every day.’ 2

The Russian Gregory Klimov had reason to visit the American HQ,
where he wanted to talk to Clay. He was struck by the slovenly attitude of

* Not to be confused with the Colonel Harlan Sanders of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame.
Colonel Sanders was a ‘Kentucky Colonel’, a purely honorary rank he shares with the
author.

f In her earlier and more respectful volume, Eisenhower was my Boss (235), she says the office
was ‘large enough for an auditorium’.

227

ALLIED ZONES

the black troopers, who had their cheeks wadded with gum. ‘The privates
stretched themselves out with their feet on the desk while the generals tore
around like messenger boys.’ Eventually he met a ‘long-nosed little soldier’
who turned out to be Clay — ‘He wasn’t a general, he was an atom-bomb.’ 3
James Stern was struck by the cute Americanness of it all, particularly the
mess, where the officers pecked at coleslaw and drank iced water.
Homesick Americans could also assuage their spleen with ice-cream.
Stern’s friends in Frankfurt were unimpressed by the authority that watched
over them, filling them with the breath of democracy. ‘Das Pharisaer
Ghetto’, they called it, ‘The Ghetto of the Pharisees’. 4

Before he left Frankfurt Dos Passos had a chance to look round and sit
in on a local American Military Government meeting. ‘Frankfurt resem¬
bles a city not so much as a pile of bones and smashed skull resembles a
prize Hereford steer.’ Yet people seemed to be rushing about the streets,
doing some sort of business: ‘They behave horribly like ants when you
have kicked over an anthill.’ At the meeting he heard the reports. Frankfurt
was receiving 2,000 new residents a week; flats were being revamped for
them; there had been five black-marketeers arrested and fish was arriving
from Bremen . . , 5

America’s great battlefield generals in the Second World War had been
Eisenhower, Bradley and Patton. Patton captured the imagination not only
of the Americans, but also of the Germans, making him a sort of American
Rommel. He could hardly be restrained from going on to take Prague
before the arrival of the Red Army, using the Czech Uprising as an excuse.
He claimed, improbably, that the Russians would stop it - ‘These patriots
need our help!’ — when the Soviets had very largely conjured it up. What
he meant was that he wanted to take Prague for the West. He was no friend
of the Russians. When a Russian came to him with a pettifogging com¬
plaint he shouted, ‘Get this son-of-a-bitch out of here!’ Zhukov was
dismissed as a ‘comic-opera covered with medals’ and Patton was excep¬
tionally proud to report that he had drunk a Russian general under the
table. In this respect his views were similar to those of Mark Clark, or even
Lucius Clay. ‘On to the Oder!’ he intoned. 6

His attitude to the Germans amounts to a metaphor for the American
occupation. At first he was toughness incarnate. He famously displayed his
attitude — and more — by urinating in the Rhine on 24 March 1945 (‘I have
been looking forward to this for some time’), 7 and after throwing up at
Ohrdruf not only ordered that local populations should be punished for
what had gone on at the camps in their neighbourhoods, he wanted simple
American servicemen to see the concentration camps. His attitude soon

228

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

began to change, however, and it changed more quickly and went further
than any of his colleagues. Like Clay he had no truck with the no-frat
order, and he was clear in making a difference between Germans and
Nazis: ‘AH Nazis are bad. But not all Germans are Nazis.’ 8

He was made military governor of Bavaria and set up his HQ in the
former SS officer training school in Bad Tolz. On 22 September he blot¬
ted his copy book by appointing Nazis to administrative roles within his
Bavarian command and marginalising their criminality — all in defiance of
JCS 1067. He backtracked a little, saying that he was employing Nazis
because he needed to retain his own men to fight, and because they hadn’t
yet found anyone better. 9 A week later, Eisenhower relieved him of his
command. 10 It may have been that Patton thought the authorities were
being ridiculously harsh about the run-of-the-mill Pgs, but there was
something more sinister besides. He was prone to antisemitic utterances.
Morgenthau and Baruch were exercising a ‘Semitic revenge on Germany’,
while the Jewish DPs were beneath contempt, or ‘lower than animals’. 11

He visited Camp No. 8 at Garmisch-Partenkirchen in September,
which was said to contain among its nearly 5,000 inmates the ‘cream’ of the
black - Totenkopf — SS which operated the concentration camps, includ¬
ing guards from Dachau and Buchenwald (those who had not been killed
while the prisoners were liberated). He was told that some of the people
there were not even Pgs, let alone criminals. At this moment Patton was
heard to utter in frustration, ‘It is sheer madness to intern these people.’ 12
There is no doubt that he meant it. On another occasion he said, ‘We have
destroyed what could have been a good race . . . [and replaced it with]
Mongolian savages. All of Europe will be communist.’ 13 His conciliatory
attitude towards the SS prisoners must have led to the rumour that he had
told the camp commanders to behave more decendy towards their captives.
A few months after his dismissal he was injured in a car accident on his way
to a pheasant shoot near Mannheim. He died in Heidelberg on 21
December 1945. 14 There have been conspiracy theories. 15

After Eisenhower went home, the American commander in chief
in Germany was General Joseph T. McNarney. His deputy was Lucius
B. Clay. Clay, who replaced McNarney as commander of European
Command in the spring of 1947, was an instance of one of Westpoint’s
great strengths, something that neither Sandhurst nor Woolwich has ever
seemed capable of producing — astute political officers. He was a southerner
who had spent seventeen years marking time as a first lieutenant in the
engineers. He missed action in the First World War and never commanded
anything with greater firepower than a desk. Yet he was one of a handful

229

ALLIED ZONES

of outstanding figures of the immediate post-war period. Together with his
political adviser Robert Murphy he refused to concede where his political
superiors were prepared for retreat on all fronts.

Clay had abandoned any pro-Morgenthau feeling he might have had by
26 April 1945. He was already keen to relaunch German industry. 16 His
guru was James Byrnes, and he must have profoundly regretted the latter’s
departure as secretary of state in January 1947. Three months later Clay
confirmed his discipleship in a letter. Byrnes’s Stuttgart speech, in which he
announced a new deal for Germany, served as his model: ‘Every word that
you said at Stuttgart became a part of my “Bible” for Germany ... It was
a living document of hope. I am not pro-German but I hope with all my
heart that in our political warfare with USSR we do not forget that here
in Germany we have 70,000,000 human beings to remember.’ 17 Clay
realised that his role was to make propaganda for the West. As he told
General Draper in Washington, ‘we do propose to attack communism and
the police state before the German people, whereas in the past we have
confined our efforts to presenting the advantages of democracy . . . Our
political objectives are to promote democracy which must mean to resist
communism.’ 18

At first civil administrations were created in a similarly haphazard way to
the Russians. The soldiers who occupied a town or village looked for
someone who was untainted by Nazism. In the writer Ernst von Salomon’s
local town they asked the parish priest, who suggested that the pre-1933
mayor had done a good job. The former mayor confessed, however, that he
had subsequently joined the Party. The Americans turned a blind eye to
that and asked him to appoint seven councillors. He told them frankly that
he would be hard pressed to find seven decent men who were not mem¬
bers of the Party, so in the end they had a council that contained more
Nazis than it had during the Third Reich. 19

America disposed of a large body of linguists. These were either
German Americans from the Mid-West or German or Austrian Jews —
often recent arrivals in the States — Czechs, Poles and other educated Slavs
who had lately established themselves across the Atlantic, or soldiers who
had simply acquired the language. There were German writers in uniform,
like Klaus Mann, Hans Habe, Stefan Heym and Georg Stefan Trailer,
most of whom worked in intelligence or propaganda. Saul Padower, whose
job was to interview prisoners for the Psychological Warfare Department,
spent his early years on the Elbe. Padower thought his colleague Joe hailed
from Nebraska — although his fluent German should have rendered him
suspicious — but when they reached Bavaria Joe suddenly grew pensive. He

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said his parents lived near by. They drove to his village and entered the
house. Joe poked an old man in a chair whose pipe dropped out of his
mouth. He asked the man if he knew who he was. The man had a stab, got
it wrong and tried again. This time he recognised the son who had left
them at the age of twelve: He turned to his wife who was knitting: ‘Hoer
mal Du . . . onser Sepp ist hier, doss ist onser Sepp!’ (Hey, listen you, our
Joe is here, that’s our Joe!). 20

American linguists were not always so politically reliable — some 70 per
cent of US army linguists had German relations like Padover’s Joe—Sepp.
Salomons friend the Austrian lawyer Diewald was astonished to find that
the local American commandant was Chinese, but his amazement was
unsurpassed when he discovered that the man not only spoke perfect
German, but was a great admirer of the ‘As-As’, as he called the SS. 21
Distrust, and the fact that many were only FOB (fresh-off-boat)
Americans, meant that only sixty-five out of 1,500 exiles figured in
Military Government, but that was still more than in the SBZ, and the
British did not believe in making the oppressed victors. 22

James Stern arrived in Germany in the spring of 1945. As the aircraft
came in to land he glimpsed Koblenz and the Deutsches Eck, where the
Rhine and the Mosel meet. He was appalled at his first reacquaintance with
the country that he had first known as a teenager learning German:
‘Sections of a shattered bridge stuck up out of the mud-coloured water and
a castle sat perched on top of the vine-terraced hills. Then the plane
dropped, and we looked down into rows of burned out-houses — just
shells of houses, without roofs or rooms, You looked down between their
four walls to their ground floors, on which there lay either nothing or else
a mound of smashed brick, smashed sticks of furniture and garbage.’ 23

Carl Zuckmayer returned an exile from his native land in the autumn of
1946, just before the great chill. He had emigrated to Switzerland after his
works were banned by the Nazis. In 1939 he became an American citizen.
At the end of the war he was living on a farm in Vermont and making his
expertise on German life available to the War Office. In July 1946 he
became the head of the European unit of the CAD (Civil Affairs Division).
He resigned in May 1947, deeply disappointed by everything he had seen
during a winter in the land of his birth. 24 The occupation was eighteen
months old, and he found that his former countrymen viewed the
Americans with mixed feelings. There was ‘a little hatred, some disap¬
pointment and a bit of reasonable, grateful recognition’. What hatred there
was existed chiefly in the hearts of stupid Germans, he thought, men and
women who refused to take responsibility for what had happened. 25

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German attitudes to Americans were coloured by lack of contact; and lack
of contact meant lack of influence. The Americans tended to live in their
own compounds, or to requisition large sections of the extant middle-class
suburbs of the bigger cities. This was the case in Wiesbaden, where they
moved into the smart quarters on the heights above the town. The com¬
pounds were often ringed by barbed wire, making them into little fortresses
announced by the legend ‘Entry Forbidden to Germans’ — a sign with a
conscious or unconscious allusion to recent German exclusivity towards the
Jews. The Americans bought from their own shops, went to their own
schools and spent the evenings in their own clubs. When they wanted to
know the news, they read it in the Stars and Stripes.

Zuckmayer believed it was important for Americans to go out and meet
Germans, particularly young Germans. Many German boys, he felt, were
reticent about making contact with Americans, but he held out hope for
the girls. By that he did not mean frat, but beneficial contact through dis¬
cussion groups, possibly on Sundays. The most dangerous group of
Germans were those who were most hard done by: those who remained
homeless and out of work, and who spent their days idling, looking for
trouble, or for something to steal. 26

The American Zone had been fixed long before the end of the war, but
on 12 December 1945 the US increased the size of its holdings in Germany
by taking over the Bremen pocket from the British. The Americans needed
a port to unload supplies for their forces. The news was bad for the famous
Rathauskeller, as US forces adhered to their right to plunder supplies of
wine. Whether the British had helped themselves to the worlds most
famous collection of German wine first is not clear from the official history.
Nearly 100,000 bottles were plundered before an order was received to
deliver a further 300,000 to the American army German civilians were no
longer allowed to use the cellar and it was turned into an officers’ mess.
American officers could buy wine, but no one restocked the cellar, and
because many American servicemen were not keen on German wine,
whisky was served under the ancient vaults.

The Americans may have drunk up many vintages from the nineteenth
century, but they left the two most famous wines alone: the cask of
seventeenth-century Rose wine from the Rheingau and the twelve barrels
of eighteenth-century Apostle mosel were sealed and apparently left
untouched. On 15 October 1948 the cellar was handed back to the town
hall at a solemn ceremony at which the mayor, Wilhelm Kaisen, and the
head of the American military, Thomas Dunn, were present. There were
many toasts, so perhaps it was not so solemn by the end. All the Allies

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LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

helped themselves to wine. For the owners of prestigious estates and cel¬
lars, the important thing was to protect the most highly prized bottles. At
Maximin Griinhaus on the River Ruwer, for example, the current owner’s
grandmother used to find an excuse to visit the building, which had been
taken over by the Americans. She was a corpulent woman, who used to
dress in wide skirts for the occasion. Once she had found her way down to
the vast formerly monastic cellars, she would pick up some bottles of the
best wines and hang them with cords under her clothes, thereby ferrying
them to safety. 27

The cession of Bremen was an instance of Anglo-American co¬
operation. In general the British and the Americans worked together from
the beginning, although the Americans often looked down on the British,
and vice versa. John Dos Passos cites an instance of a man requiring a spare
part for his Opel. He was told he needed to obtain it from the British
Zone, but it was no problem — ‘we have good co-operation on things like
that’. Someone asked about the French: ‘If anybody knows any way of get¬
ting anything out of the French Zone they haven’t told me about it.’
Finally the Russians were mentioned. ‘We don’t talk about the Russian
Zone’ was the answer. 28

Due to clever planning and relocation, a lot of German industry had
survived. Clay put the figure as high as 25—30 per cent, but he did not think
the economy was ready to start up again in June 1945. 29 The Americans
had come through the war with their wealth, and they turned their noses
up at the idea of demontage. Clay understood what that meant for his
country all too well: ‘rolling stock, livestock and agricultural implements
required for a minimum economy in Germany and which if not available
would result in increased imports into Germany, would militate against the
ability of Germany to pay reparations and inevitably result in calling on the
US for relief’. 30

Zuckmayer was able to witness the first steps taken to re-establish a pro¬
fessional life in the ruins. He met a young dentist and was intrigued to
know how he would practise his skills in a broken city. He located the sur¬
gery in an area filled with the usual heaps of rubble. The ground floor was
filled with heaps of masonry but an emergency staircase had been built to
give access to the first floor, and on the second a dozen families and their
sub-lessees were living in a few patched-up rooms. From there another
exposed stairway took him up to the remaining rooms of the house where
four dentists had established their practice. Only two of the rooms could be
heated, and the surgery’s hours were limited by the caprices of mains elec¬
tricity that came on and went off with distressing regularity. During the

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hours that the surgery functioned, it was overrun by patients who lived in
the rubble all around. The nurses were sometimes engaged as assistants,
sometimes as builders helping to render the other rooms inhabitable. They
looked pale and thin, but not exhausted. When they saw Zuckmayer they
did not ask for cigarettes or food - they wanted books. The dentists them¬
selves had all suffered personal tragedies, their families killed in Allied
raids. One had lost a leg. One was waiting to marry his fiancee, who was
due to walk to Berlin from East Prussia. Her father had been killed and her
mother had committed suicide. 31 For others, the full story was only then
coming to light. There was a cleaning lady who worked at Zuckmayer’s
Berlin lodgings, for example. She was actually a pastors wife, but the cler¬
gyman had been called up by the Volkssturm in the last days of the war and
had subsequently disappeared. She had three children, two boys in their
teens and a baby boy born towards the end of the war. For their sake she
had to work. She had always insisted that her husband would return. Then
news came that his body had been found in the Grossbeerenstrasse in
Glienicke in the far north of the city, and had been positively identified. It
had lain among the ruins for nineteen months. The elder children had
known their father was dead. Once she had heard one of them praying:
‘Lord, make us loyal and brave to the end, like him.’ It was two hours’ walk
from Zuckmayer’s boarding house to the place where her husband had met
his end, but she still insisted on going, and going on foot. Until that
moment she had been utterly stoical about her fate. Now, finally aware of
how hopeless her position was, she broke down: she wanted to leave
Germany — ‘this damned country’. Then she recovered her composure and
set out on her trek to Glienicke. 32

American GIs had been fed a good deal of propaganda at home and on
the way. They had drunk deep from the films of Frank Capra, and had read
the articles of Emil Ludwig, Louis Nizer and Siegrid Schultz; they had
heard Dorothy Thompson. They had been equipped with copies of the
Pocket Guide to Germany. From the first moment they walked on German
soil, they expected to be attacked by Werewolves. They were nervous of
Germans — civilians and soldiers alike. Despite all this, surveys at home
revealed that Americans were more anti-Japanese than anti-German:
German Americans were and are a sizeable part of the US population. 33

The order banning frat contributed to the Americans’ brutality towards
the conquered Germans. Public opinion favoured punishment and
Eisenhower had made it clear that there was to be no billeting of American
soldiers with German families, no mixed marriages, no joint church ser¬
vices, no visits to German homes, no drinking with Germans, no shaking

234

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

their hands, no playing games with them, no exchanging gifts with them,
no dancing with them, going to their theatres, taverns or hotels. The
penalty was a $65 fine or a court martial. 34

Propaganda had taught the soldiers that Germans — particularly German
soldiers — were subhuman. In the autumn of 1944 the Americans burned
down the village of Wallenberg because they had encountered resistance. In
the spring of the following year they liberated their first concentration
camp at Ohrdruf. Eisenhower was quick to seize on the importance of the
camp in raising American morale and ordered his troops to visit it. Pictures
from the camps were also distributed to soldiers. The Germans were to be
treated no better than dogs. Indeed, in some instances dogs loomed large.
A Frau Sachse told Salomon of a potentially dangerous moment that
occurred when her four-year-old daughter had heard that an American
officers pet was called Hitler. ‘All dogs are called Hitler,’ he told her. The
bemused child replied, ‘My dog’s called Ami [Yank]!’ The mother dragged
the child away before the American could respond. 35

Salomon gives a highly coloured account of the fate of his Wehrpass at
the hands of a GI — this was the document that showed he was officially
excused from military service. In his south German village a sentry post
had been established in a tent:

one day as I approached the tent [I] saw a man seated on the stool[.J I auto¬
matically put my hand in my breast pocket. Sitting there outside the tent, his
eyes glued on a plump girl leaning on a fence, he was whistling a tune of the
type the Americans called ‘long-haired’. This man in his tight-fitting
American uniform attracted my attention because on his left lower arm he
wore no fewer than three wrist-watches, while his lapels were decorated
with a great number of those little gold brooches containing brightly
coloured stones such as peasant or servant girls wear in this part of the
world. As I drew near him, this man, scarcely taking his eyes from the
plump girl, signalled me with an inclination of his head to approach. He
took my Wehrpass, glanced though it in a bored fashion for a few seconds,
and then, with a slow and satisfied gesture, tore it in four pieces which he
proceeded to drop into the gutter. While doing this he did not for a
moment interrupt his long-haired whistling. 36

James Stern met a heavily pregnant Frankfurt woman near Kempten in
the Allgau. She was walking home from Rome, where fascists had allegedly
shot her husband. Stern asked her if she had come on foot all the way from
Italy. She said she had had a bicycle, but an American soldier had stolen it
together with her bag and luggage. The Englishman Stern refused to
believe the story — Americans did not behave like that. It must have been

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a German in a stolen uniform. 37 The Americans’ fear of Werewolves
showed in their treatment of the civilian population. They were allegedly
at their worst in Bavaria. The half-American journalist Margret Boveri
thought the Americans particularly ignorant of Germany, a sentiment that
was confirmed for her during her time in internment across the Atlantic.
They had not taken the time or the trouble to look into National
Socialism, for the good or the bad. 38

The American authorities continued in their attempts to stop their sol¬
diers listening to the siren calls of Germans. When US troops entered
Frankfurt they were even prevented from speaking to the 106 remaining
Jews. Before the war there had been 40,000. The American Forces
Network put out anti-frat broadcasts: ‘pretty girls can sabotage an Allied
victory’. Some German women from Stolberg were prosecuted for
attempting to woo GIs, although the trial turned into a farce. The first dent
in the armour of American anti-frat policy came when the rule concern¬
ing small children was relaxed. The next exception concerned public
contacts with Germans. The ban was lifted altogether on 1 October 1945.
The last remaining stones in the edifice were interdictions concerning bil¬
leting and marriages with Germans. 39

German men, such as there were, received a cold shoulder from their
women. Poorly nourished, dressed in rags, penniless and morally suspect,
they did not have the heroic smell of the conqueror. Carl Zuckmayer
spoke to two pretty waitresses who worked in an American mess in Berlin.
Neither would have anything to do with German boys. As one put it,
‘They are too soft, they are not men any more. In the past they showed off
too much.’ The other described German men as ‘worthless’.

The Americans were everything now, the Germans nothing. Natives
who were taken on by Allied garrisons sometimes succumbed to the temp¬
tation to be high and mighty with their less fortunate countrymen. Some
of the worst were the waiters and waitresses who worked in the messes. For
them, the qualification for membership of the human race began with the
right to shop at the American PX or the British NAAFI. Really superior
beings were adorned with the officers’ pips of a foreign army. Zuckmayer
was naturally interested in this phenomenon. As the author of the success¬
ful play Der Hauptmann won Kopenick he had explored the old German, or
rather Prussian, respect for uniforms, which had made the reserve lieu¬
tenant the metaphor for an arriviste in Wilhelmine society. Zuckmayer was
not impressed by these sycophants who chewed gum, and said he believed
that an unreformed young Flitlerite made better material for the new
Germany than some toady who clicked his heels at the sight of an

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LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

American sergeant or captain. 40 In Heidelberg he discovered that there was
no room at the inn for his driver, the latter being a German working for
the military government. The German hotelier told the writer that his
driver had to sleep in the car — he was not allowed to give beds to
Germans. 41

When they weren’t working they went to a nightclub called Feminina
in the ruins of the Tauentzienstrasse in Berlins New West. There were
prostitutes there who served the Allied soldiers; the waitresses from the
mess were not averse to selling their bodies either. In the Feminina the girls
met men of the right sort who later took them off to a ‘black’ nightclub
and were prepared to shell out a few hundred marks for a bottle of cham¬
pagne. One of the girls would take her men home to the flat she shared
with her parents. Her father was a civil servant. Zuckmayer was anxious to
learn whether they knew what their daughter was doing — ‘Naturally, that
is unavoidable, as our rooms are too close to one another. But the old folks
say nothing, in the end I pay my own rent.’ The playwright reflected that
after the First World War the parents would have thrown their daughter out
on the street, or taken their own lives from shame. Now they just turn the
other way and pretend not to notice. 42

Understandably, civilians were shot as Germany was invested in the
spring in 1945, either deliberately or by accident. This happened above all
in the east, but it was a relatively frequent occurrence in the west as well,
and the victims were not always Germans — sometimes soldiers succeeded
in killing some poor foreign worker as well. Billeting soldiers was an anx¬
ious moment for families who were already harbouring refugees from the
devastated towns and cities. The invading armies appeared pitiless. German
armies compared the behaviour of French troops unfavourably with their
own in occupied France. 43

When Margret Boveri finally arrived in Bamberg after her long trek on
2 September 1945, she was relieved to find the city largely undamaged.
Only the bridges were down. Also there was food to be had - bread,
butter, cheese and soup made from meat stock. On the other hand the
Americans drove around with a great show of force. Everywhere there
were armed guards.

Carl Zuckmayer came rapidly to the conclusion that American policy
was wrong-headed. In his report to the American War Office he advocated
removing the propaganda role from the army and reinvesting it in the
State Department. The problem was that he and his fellow left-wing
German and Austrian emigres were falling increasingly under the suspicion
of communism, so that the American authorities tended to hold them and

237

ALLIED ZONES

their suggestions at arm’s length. 44 There was also backbiting within the
emigre group in the United States, with the Manns retreating into their
corner and pouring scorn on the efforts of others to restore culture in
Germany. According to Zuckmayer, Thomas was not the worst of them,
but he stood too much under the influence of his hot-headed daughter
Erika.

With time, however, the Americans ceased to heed the injunction
against frat. GIs empathised with the Germans, whose lives and values
seemed similar to their own. As one soldier put it, ‘Hell! These people are
cleaner and a damn sight friendlier than the frogs . . .’ The feeling that con¬
tact with the natives could have its pleasant side was compounded when
American servicemen began to sleep with German women. Life came out
with a variant on the old line about fires and chimneypieces: ‘You don’t
talk politics when you fraternize.’ 45

American policy on the ground changed with new directives from
Washington. On 6 September 1946 James Byrnes delivered his now famous
speech in Stuttgart that announced an about-turn in US policy towards the
conquered Germans. The Russians were now the principal enemy. On the
advice of George Kennan, the ambassador to Moscow, and Clifford Clark,
the special adviser to the president, who continued to warn of Soviet
Russia’s expansionist desires, Truman decided to fight the growing threat
of communist tyranny. The president’s speech of 12 March 1947 marked
the ‘official’ beginning of the Cold War.* The phrase derived from the title
of a book published that year by Walter Lippmann.t On 7 July George
Marshall, who had succeeded Byrnes as secretary of state, replaced the con¬
troversial Directive JCS 1067 of 17 July 1945 that forbade frat. Directive
JCS 1779 advocated the creation of a ‘stable and productive Germany’. The
Morgenthau Plan had also been laid to rest.

The emigres were almost all disappointed by the American policy.
Marxists like Franz Neumann felt that the Americans had also failed to
exterminate the ghost of National Socialism and that they would never
succeed in introducing stable democracy. John Herz, who worked with
Neumann at the Office of Strategic Services, was equally critical: ‘Too
ambitious, because it started with the nonsensical idea of showing up every
German by means of the Fragebogen\ and not thorough enough, because at
the same time we were content to give accreditation to the mayor and the
priest — who were doubtless Nazis — and allow them to walk away.’ Herz

* Or one of them: see below Chapter 19
f The Cold War: A Study in US Foreign Policy.

238

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

had advocated the drawing up of lists of Germans who were 95—100 per
cent sure anti-Nazis. 46

Other exiles were harder hitting about American policies. Volkmar von
Ziihlsdorff had emigrated to Austria in 1933, departing for America later.
He left with Prince Hubertus zu Lowenstein who ran a republican youth
group in Brandenburg for the Social Democrat Reichsbanner organisation,
which vowed to defend the Weimar Republic from its enemies. Ziihlsdorff
wanted to help with the rebuilding of Germany. He expressed his outrage
in correspondence with his fellow exile Hermann Broch, the Austrian
novelist. For Ziihlsdorff the Potsdam Declaration was a major crime that
had been based on the Ribbentrop—Molotov Pact and the Nazi—Soviet
Fourth Partition of Poland: ‘Cutting off large, purely German regions is no
less a crime than the earlier annexation of Czechoslovakia. The complete
expulsion of the German population is a ponderous, international crime.’
Broch was not opposed to such views, but pointed out that protest against
Potsdam meant war with Russia. The crime could never be resolved.
Ziihlsdorff felt that Nazism was burned out by 1945, that the German
people were ready for a complete change. Instead they had been treated to
‘the propaganda of hate’. What they needed was ‘liberation, reason, peace
and human rights’. 47

Dorothy Thompson had been close to the hanged resister Helmuth
James von Moltke during her time as a journalist in Berlin. She knew
Germany and its people well, she was a fanatical opponent of collective
guilt, and after the war she continued to press for reasonable policies. Her
views resembled those of the writer Ernst Jiinger in his essay Der Friede.
Directly after the war she toured central Europe with her husband, the
Prague-born painter Maximilian Kopf. She was particularly struck by her
visit to Dachau, where she was able to view the commandant’s house and
see that he possessed an edition of Goethe’s works, loved children, music, art
and literature, and lived, to all extents and purposes, a normal family life. 4 *

The Russians linked food distribution to work, encouraging the busi¬
ness of clearing up. In the American Zone no one worked because there
was nothing to buy. Soon that position reversed itself and the Russians fell
behind. Russians were also notorious for their light fingers — wristwatches
were always at risk, but the French and the Americans were not so loath to
steal the odd souvenir, or even a watch or three. American official theft was
carried out on a massive scale when it came to seizing scientists and scien¬
tific equipment. This received governmental sanction as ‘Operation
Paperclip’. During their few months in the famous lens-city of Jena, the
American military government or AMG nabbed eighty scientists between

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ALLIED ZONES

22 and 25 June and obliged them to make their way to the safer, US areas
of occupation in the west. 49

The Anglo-Americans were not uninterested in plunder. Margret
Boveri thought the Russian reputation was unfair. True, they had stolen a
good deal, but the Western Allies stole objects of greater worth. The
British received the best press. They were the ‘quietest, slowest and most
understanding’. 50 Sometimes they paid. James Stern recounts a visit to a
black market in Kempten where he was received by a dirty greasy little
black-marketeer who tried to sell him some sweet Mavrodaphne. ‘We are
not ladies . . . and we want wine . . .’ said Stern firmly. Through an open
door, however, he saw something more interesting: some cases of 1939
Pfalz wine. A second man said they had been ordered by the Military
Government, but thirty marks seemed to do the trick and the Englishman
went off with a couple of cases. 51 The Americans and the Russians were
also trading. James Stern got wind of exchanges of gems for cases of cognac
or American cigarettes. 52

Nor were all the rapes committed by the Russians. In Salomons local
town, he claims half a dozen women were raped as the Americans took
possession of place and people. Nor was his indictment so far fetched - the
figures bear him out. Rape charges in the US army rose steadily, from 18
in January 1945 to 31 in February to an enormous 402 in March and 501
in April, once military resistance had slackened off. With peace the rapes
petered out: there were 241 reports in May, 63 in June and 45 for each
month thereafter. About a quarter to a half of these reports resulted in a
trial and a third to a half of the trials to a conviction. A number of
American servicemen were executed, proportionally higher than any of the
other occupying powers. 53

One reason there were fewer reports of rape was that there was far
more consensual congress. German girls would have sex for food or cigar¬
ettes. You didn’t court a German woman with flowers — a basket of food
was more welcome. The Americans were attractive to the Germans,
because they had not suffered the deprivations of war in the same way. Few
were crippled, and they were taller and more athletic. Every now and
then the Germans took it out on the women who spurned them in favour
of the occupiers. It is not hard to imagine the feeling of impotence of the
rare young German who saw his girl making for the American garrison on
the promise of sweets and cigarettes. Zuckmayer believed that this and the
brutal confiscation of property by the military made the Americans un¬
popular. He alludes to an incident in the Munich suburb of Harlaching in
the perishing cold of December 1946.

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LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

The hatred of the conqueror, however, had no political overtones, and
was by no one politically exploited; and if there was grumbling about the
behaviour of the Amis, there were always people to remind the malcontent
that he would be shot in the Russian Zone, worse fed in the British, and
face more corruption in the French. The American Zone was the easiest
place to obtain cigarettes as well. 54 The liaisons naturally resulted in chil¬
dren. It is estimated that 94,000 Besatzungskinder or ‘occupation children’
were born in the American Zone under military government. The
Germans joked that at the next war they would not need to send soldiers,
just uniforms. These children — wanted or unwanted — often caused dis¬
tress, as there were no paternity orders issued against the servicemen. The
situation must have been alleviated in December 1946 once marriages
were finally permitted. The American soldiers were not slow to show
their enthusiasm. There were some 14,000 GI brides brought home from
Germany, a figure only exceeded by Britain, which saw nearly 35,000 of its
girls go home with the American troops. For Ruth Friedrich and her
friends these German brides were ‘rats leaving the sinking ship’. 55

There were 42,000 American blacks in the forces of occupation. They
were particularly enthralled by the Frauleins — women who were more pre¬
pared to sleep with them than people back home. They were, as one
writer has written, ‘early and enthusiastic fraternisers’. 56 During the first
years of the occupation, between two and three thousand mixed-race
babies were born — about 2 to 3 percent of the Besatzungskinder. In Bendorf
on the Rhine the Russian Elena Skijabina encountered ten ‘half negro’
babies that had been brought in for adoption: ‘These soldiers quite will¬
ingly go with German girls, the girls are available for all types of rarities
such as coffee, chocolate and so forth.’ The only problem was that the
arrival of the coloured child caused anger in the girl’s family, hence the fact
the children were being offered for adoption. 57 Another problem was VD.
An American source related that over three-quarters of the black solders
were infected. Relationships between black soldiers and German girls
caused friction with the natives, and with white American soldiers too.
The consequence was ‘bitter hatred among German men. Many of our
own [US] soldiers feel almost as strongly about it.’ 58 In Asperg in Bavaria
there was an incident at a dance when a fight broke out. A white soldier
was killed and four others wounded. Three blacks were sentenced to death
as a result. 59

German racial tolerance clearly surprised American blacks. A black
musician came to see Leo Borchard in Berlin and talked to him about
Bach. Borchard sent him off with a score. The musician told Borchard, ‘We

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are the most despised people on earth. We are even more deeply despised
than the Jews, or . . . or the Germans.’ He said that people came to his con¬
certs not to hear him play, but to see the novelty of a black man playing
classical music. 60

With time and with the increasing unease between the Western Allies and
the Russians, the Americans sought to win over the hearts and minds of the
conquered Germans. From a policy of forbidding fraternisation, American
soldiers were actively encouraged to look after vulnerable Germans, reserv¬
ing their wrath only for the more obvious culprits. In Bad Kissingen, for
example, Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia was able to come together with
a Captain Merle Potter to create the first German American Club in 1946.
Louis Ferdinand was the grandson of that famous militarist, Kaiser William
II, who would certainly have failed the test of the Fragebogen . 61

Political Life

While the British were keen to see the Germans issued with a good,
workable constitution that would prevent them from falling into bad ways
in the future, the Americans were obsessed with the need to introduce
their brand of government: every German was to become a good demo¬
crat. Once the Germans had democracy, they would never be tempted by
totalitarianism again. The fact that they had already had democracy, and
that it had dramatically failed in 1929, seems to have been unclear to
people such as James Sterns colleague ‘the Professor’. 62 This attitude led to
a deal of absurdity in the Americans’ pursuit of fairness in the newspapers
they licensed: the Rhein-Neckar-Zeitung had to offer leading articles from all
four main political parties, including the communists. One of the movers
and shakers in post-war Bavarian politics was Josef ‘Ochsensepp’ Muller.
Muller returned from Capri in the middle ofjune 1945 having established
a relationship with the Americans that would stand him in good stead. The
American authorities allowed him to establish a base for anti-Nazi politi¬
cians in Munich that would form the nucleus of a new political party. The
men met on Wednesdays. To observe the proceedings the Americans sent
along Dany Weiss, a Jew who had lost his entire family in the east. The idea
was to establish a party that would cross Christian lines, and not be entirely
Catholic like the old Centre Party.* Muller also recruited the leading

* It is a moot point whether the CSU is really seen as anything other than a Catholic
Bavarian force.

242

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

political figure in Franconia, Adam Stegerwald, and the trades-unionist
Franz Wegner. 3

Mullers ideas echoed those ofjakob Kaiser in Berlin: Germany needed
to learn from the primitive Christians. If their teaching was followed there
would be no need for communism or socialism. It was an idea he had
developed in the Flotel Paradiso in Capri, in conversation with the
American naval officer and Mormon, Dale Clark. These sun-baked dis¬
cussions sired the Christlich-Sozial Union or CSU. 64 A few monarchists
were easily pushed to one side. Their leader, Eugen Graf Quadt-Isny, had
unfortunately had himself photographed in SS uniform in the company of
the leading Nazi ‘beasts’ after the dissolution of his own Bayrische
Volkspartei or BVP. 65 The Americans licensed the CSU on 8 January 1946.

The Americans insisted that denazification be carried out with a tough¬
ness absent from the other zones. Fritz Schaffer, a former head of the
BVP and an old Dachauer, was their first nominee as minister president of
Bavaria. Fie then fell foul of the Americans because he failed to pursue
former Nazis with the right degree of enthusiasm, even if they already had
46,000 in the can by 3 October 1945. Clay thought him insufficiently lib¬
eral and had him sacked. 66 Not even Muller was immune, he who had
been in Flossenblirg and Dachau, had almost been shot, and had wit¬
nessed some of his closest friends being beaten, tortured and murdered for
their opposition to Nazism. As a former member of military intelligence he
had belonged to a ‘tainted’ organisation. Through the new minister presi¬
dent, the ‘remigrant’ Dr Wilhelm Hoegner, and his ‘special minister’ for
denazification, the communist nominee Fleinrich Schmitt, Bavaria
established ‘Spruchkammer’ or special courts. They were staffed by non¬
professional judges reflecting the parties in power in the Landtag, or local
parliament. Muller’s view was encapsulated in a joke that was doing the
rounds at the time: a former street-sweeper passes a man ineptly cleaning
the pavements on his old beat. As he stares at the new cleaner, the latter
shouts out, ‘I have to clean the streets because I was in the Party!’ The
former cleaner shouts back, ‘I am not allowed to do it, because I was in the
Party too!’ 67

One outstanding figure who joined Hoegner s government was Ludwig
Erhard. He was from Fiirth in Franconia, making him a sort of Bavarian.
After a chequered academic career as an economist he found himself
unemployed when the Americans came in and volunteered his services in
his home town. He had no Nazi track record and he was popular with the
Americans. When Schaffer’s government fell in October he was appointed
minister for trade. He was not a member of any party and his career in the

243

ALLIED ZONES

Bavarian government came to an end a little over a year later. He went
back into academic life as an economics teacher at Munich University. 68

The Americans fished him out again to make him one of seven mem¬
bers of the Economic Council in autumn 1947. Erhard became president
of the Special Commission for Money and Credit. Germany had somehow
to stabilise its currency, which had no credibility. The Reichsmark, which
was still circulating, was causing terrible inflation. Erhards idea was that the
quantity of money in circulation needed to reflect the quantity of goods on
offer in the marketplace. This way prices could be made constant and
there would be something to buy. 69 Erhard’s formulations became the basis
for the Homburg Plan for a market economy which was published on 18
April 1948. Erhard himself became the head of the economic administra¬
tion in Bizonia after Johannes Sender's well-publicised faux pas in
describing the American food aid as ‘chicken feed’. 70

Culture

Culture became a way to reinstil notions of civilisation in the renegade
Germans, but at first it was also used to punish them. One of the high tem¬
ples of German art, the Festival Opera House in Bayreuth, was singled out
for special treatment. After all, in American eyes Richard Wagner was a
prototype Nazi, his music was banned, his house destroyed by bombs and
his daughter-in-law threatened with a labour camp. In the circumstances
the natural thing to do was to give the Bayreuther some real, democratic
culture: variety shows and revues were put on for the troops in the same
building where — the summer before — weary and invalid troops had
watched Siegfried or Gotterdammerung.

When the American authorities put on an opera, it turned out to be Die
Fledermaus. Meanwhile the Festival Restaurant was baking between 12,000
and 15,000 doughnuts a day. A programme for 12 December 1945 shows
that the Bayreuth Symphony Orchestra were billed to perform ‘Music You
Love to Hear’, conducted by the elderly operetta composer Paul Lincke,
who had written hit songs like ‘Berliner Luft’ before the Great War. Not
all Americans, however, were unmoved by the heritage of the Wagners. The
critic Joseph Wechsberg found his way into the Opera House and saw
that the stage was set for Die Meistersinger. He sat down in Hans Sachs’s
chair and sang the monologue ‘Wahn’ (delusion) to an audience of one -
the carpenter who had come out to listen. 71

Wieland Wagner hoped to enlist Toscanini to come to the aid of the

244

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

theatre and of his grandfather’s legacy. The Italian conductor had been vol¬
ubly anti-fascist and was in good odour in the United States. The Opera
House was an ‘unprotected shrine’. 72 As for the Wagner home, Wahnfried,
the ruined house provided a backdrop for American dances and summer
parties. There were reports that GIs had been seen dancing the jitterbug on
Wagner’s grave. 73 With time it became clear that the Wagner legacy could
be saved, providing it was purged of its flirtation with Nazism. Oskar
Meyer, the new mayor of Bayreuth, ensured that some serious, non-
Wagnerian operas were performed under the sacred roof, even if he wanted
to send Winifred Wagner to a labour camp for five years. The three chil¬
dren who had remained behind in Germany were all tainted by Nazism to
a greater or lesser degree. There remained only the emigre Friedelind.

If the Americans were not as active as the Russians in promoting culture,
their zone was not a complete backwater. Prince Franz Sayn-Wittgenstein
remembered seeing As You Like It performed by the Shakespeare
Company — the forerunner to the Royal Shakespeare Company — in
Wiesbaden. Later he saw Carl Zuckmayer’s play, Des Teufels General, based
on the life of the Luftwaffe general Udet who committed suicide in 1941.
Sayn-Wittgenstein became so enraged at the scene when the general is
confronted by an SS officer that he leaped to his feet and shouted, ‘Hauen
Sie doch dem Schwein eine in die Fresse!’ (Go on, give the pig a punch in
the gob!). His neighbour sought to calm him down in the local dialect: ‘Ei
beruige Se sich. Es ist nur auf der Biehne’ (Come on, calm down. It’s only
a play). 74

Part of Zuckmayer’s job was to report on the state of theatre in the
American Zone. He was impressed by what he encountered in Berlin:
‘with what seriousness, passion and enthusiasm theatre is performed in this
undernourished and freezing city, how much theatre is fought for,
attended and loved, spoken about and criticised - the whole gamut of
artistic events and projects theatrical and operatic - and, thank God, free
cabaret as well, [cultural life in Berlin] reveals a spiritual, intellectual and
physical vitality that could not be stamped out by robbing the people of
liberty for twelve years nor by the consequences of a collapse without par¬
allel, nor by dividing [Germany] into four zones.’ Not only did Berliners
appear to live and breathe theatre, they were prepared to forgo much of
their paltry livelihood to attend. In the west you could see people with
money to spare, but in the north-east, 20 per cent of the population
attended performances, although the entrance ticket cost them as much as
they would pay for a small amount of pork dripping or a few grams of
butter on the black market. 75

245

ALLIED ZONES

Looking into theatre meant liaising with the actor—director Benno
Frank, who headed the music, theatre and cinema section of the ICD or
Information Control Division. His assistant was the Eric Clarke who in
civilian life had been the administrator at the Metropolitan Opera in New
York. One, fairly unsuccessful policy was to make German troupes act
translations of American plays that were seen to have propaganda value, but
which offered no criticism of American life. Some of these were of
undoubted interest, such as those by Thornton Wilder, others were less
so — Elmer Rice’s The Adding Machine, John C. Holm and George Abbott’s
Three Men on a Horse, Paul Osborns On Borrowed Time, Samuel Behrman’s
Biography, William Saroyan’s The Time of your Life, Clarence Day’s Life with
Father and Lillian Heilman’s Watch on the Rhine. The latter caused grum¬
bling in Vienna when it was put on by Ernst Lothar with his wife,
Adrienne Gessner, playing a leading role. It was a play about the opposition
to Hitler, but the audience felt the author was uncertain of her ground.

The heavy-handedness of Allied theatre policy led to a conference in
Stuttgart at the end of February 1947, when it was decided to allow
German theatre more freedom to perform plays it chose and to direct
them the way it wanted. There had been a successful interaction between
the French and the Americans in Stuttgart, which is not far from the
ancient university town of Tubingen in the French Zone. Newell Jenkins,
the far-sighted American theatre officer for Baden-Wiirttemberg, had
encouraged these exchanges. Jenkins and William Dubensky were also
successful in ‘liberating’ the theatres in Stuttgart and Wiesbaden that had
been requisitioned by the American army They were turned over to their
original use. There had also been a successful exchange between the
Americans and the Russians in Berlin, but that was once again due to
Dymshitz. In the American Sector it was the Hebbel Theatre that led the
way, while the Russians encouraged performances in the Volksbiihne in
their own sector.

The usual physical problem beset theatres in the American Zone: 60 per
cent of them had been destroyed in the bombing. Added to the lack of
premises was a paucity of actors and directors, many of them having either
voted with their feet in 1933 or perished in the camps. Theatre was
nonetheless best represented in the American Zone. The Western Allies
controlled 70 per cent of the theatres, and in Bizonia the Americans led the
British by six to four. A little bit of invention was necessary. In Munich the
theatre had been destroyed, and performances took place in the Fountain
Court of the badly damaged royal residence. One thriving part of the
Munich theatre was the Schaubiihne cabaret which was directed by Erich

246

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

Kastner, the author of the Berlin novel Fiorina. The Americans made him
editor of their Neue Zehung. 76

Zuckmayer also filed a report on the film industry in the American
Zone. It appeared that Germany had become a dumping ground for
Hollywood, and not enough was being done to help revive the native
German film industry that had come under Goebbels s control during the
Nazi years and had naturally been used chiefly for propaganda. The
German people lapped up the films they had been deprived of during the
Third Reich - that is, all except the bigwigs, who had continued to
watch them in their specially constructed home cinemas.* German films
were subjected to censorship, sometimes as a result of over-sensitivity on
the part of the American authorities. An example of this was a film on the
life of Louis Pasteur. It showed a group of Russian refugees being injected
with a rabies vaccine. The Americans thought it would remind people of
the experiments carried out in the camps and cut the scene. Such films
that were made under the American aegis were often as tainted with
propaganda as those of Dr Goebbels. They familiarised German audiences
with the problems Jews faced in reaching Palestine, or the living condi¬
tions of DPs. Zuckmayer felt they should sponsor a film on the German
opposition. 77

Zuckmayer was present at a performance of his most popular play Der
Hauptmann won Kopenick in Heidelberg, and was surprised to find a small
number of young men wolf-whistling. After the play was over he chal¬
lenged one of them to explain his behaviour. The play had been
particularly despised by the Nazis because it had poked fun at the Prussian
respect for army uniforms. Zuckmayer discovered that the whistlers were
mostly ex-officers and students, and in no way standard louts. They had
gone to voice their disapproval of plays that devalued German ‘culture’.

Zuckmayer s role was also to promote American culture and democracy,
and he invited the hecklers to come to see him, and discuss whatever it was
that annoyed them so much about his play. In Bavaria he was engaged to
speak to some of the older children in a Gymnasium about the benefits of
democracy. He was wary, however, of presenting his talk as such, for fear
that the children would see him as a mere spouter of American propa¬
ganda. The children were by no means taken in by the American
profession of disinterested benevolence. They wanted to know why half the
seminars at Munich University had been closed. They also revealed that

* They were popular with the ‘lofty animals’ of the Party: Martin Bormann had one in his
house in Berchtesgaden and Goebbels one in his Berlin home.

247

ALLIED ZONES

some of the children had been threatened that they would get their come¬
uppance and suffer ostacism and physical violence once the occupation was
wound up. 78 The author had to duck the ‘Gretchen Question’* on his
many appearances on the podium. Germans were well aware of the posi¬
tion taken by Thomas Mann, and of the intransigently anti-German pose
struck by Mann’s daughter Erika.

Zuckmayer proved a remorseless critic of American policy until he was
brought down by a heart attack in December 1948. He had always been
adamant that he would not go to Germany to boss Germans around while
posing as an American officer. He wanted to bring the Germans books,
especially those (like his own) that had been banned since 1933. He was
convinced that love was a stronger emotion than hate, and that the
Germans needed encouragement, not the lash. He intended to make a film
about the Nuremberg trials, but in this he was thwarted and pipped at the
post by Stuart Schulberg, who headed the film division of the ICD in
Berlin. He had disapproved of the way the trials had been run, and felt that
the real trials took place in the hearts of Germans. 79

There was at least as much enthusiasm for books as theatre, and the
dramatist contended that if the publishers were merely given enough paper
they could instantly sell everything they brought out. The Americans
sensed this and created libraries in the form of twenty-six Amerika Hauser
and 137 reading rooms. In Berlin-Zehlendorf, Zuckmayer discovered the
publisher Peter Suhrkamp, who had run the illustrious house of Fischer
before the war, and was to create Suhrkamp in Frankfurt-am-Main in
1950, one of the most influential publishing houses of post-war Germany.
Suhrkamp had been allowed to move from Potsdam in the Russian Zone
and set up in comparative comfort, although the frigid winter of 1946—7
hit him as hard as everyone else, especially after his pipes froze. Suhrkamp
had had anything but an easy war. An opponent of Hider, he had been tan¬
gential to the so-called Solf Circle around Hanna Solf, the widow of the
last imperial foreign minister Wilhem Solf, and had been denounced by the
same Swiss Dr Reckzeh whose testimony resulted in them all being thrown
into Ravensbriick concentration camp and the execution of two of the set,
the Red Cross nurse Elisabeth von Thadden and the diplomat Otto Kiep.
He had been badly treated in the camp and sustained serious injuries to his
back, as well as a near mortal inflammation of the lungs and the skin cov¬
ering his ribs. 80

* In Zuckmayer s case the question was whether he was still a German, and whether he
would consider coming back to Germany to live.

248

LIFE IN THE AMERICAN ZONE

The American Zone also silently (or almost) played host to Group 47,
the first post-war school of German literature. The group was the brain¬
child of Hans Werner Richter, whose attempts to create a magazine Der
Skorpion were snuffed out by the American censors. The aim was to turn
their backs on everything the Nazis might have taught them: existentialism
was fashionable, and the name of Sartre a leitmotiv in their discussions.
Magical realism reared its head in the writings of Wolfdietrich Schnurre.
One of those early movers and shakers was Nicolas Sombart, the son of the
famous sociologist Werner Sombart. Every six months the members met to
read their works in progress in various bucolic spots around the zone. Very
soon the group began to attract some of the bigger names in post-war
German literature: Alfred Andersch, Martin Walser, Gunter Grass and
Heinrich Boll. 81

It is probably not surprising that one particular man in an American
uniform was very interested in discovering illustrious fragments of German
culture, and that was W. H. Auden. One night James Stern returned to
hear Beethoven being performed in the gute Stube of the house he shared
with the British poet in Nuremberg. It was a Herr Ledenfels, once the
most famous performer in the city. Auden had picked him up somewhere
on his rounds. 82

249

Life in the British Zone

No German is persona grata with Mil. Gov.

A British officer. Quoted in Charles Williams,
Adenauer, London 2000, 296

British Military Government

T he British ‘element’ in the occupation of Germany was required to
administer 23,000,000 souls. It was formally governed by a junior
minister, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, who was responsible
for both German and Austrian affairs as head of the Control Office for
Germany and Austria, or COGA. Originally this fell under the Civil
Affairs Division of the Ministry of War, as the Foreign Office disowned it.
Later, when Lord Pakenham was minister, he was given a room at the
Foreign Office, which brought him closer to the foreign secretary, Ernest
Bevin, physically at least. The first minister was John Hynd, a former rail¬
way clerk and trade unionist, who had only been an MP since 1944. It
seems his choice was suggested by the fact he had taught himself German.
For obvious reasons his department was called ‘Hyndquarters’. 1

He was shunted on to pensions and replaced by Lord Pakenham, a
quondam Oxford don who was to achieve household fame as the Earl of
Longford, campaigning against pornography and in favour of prisoners.
The left-wing British publisher Victor Gollancz thought Hynd a good
fellow: ‘There is no humaner man in British public life,’ but it is clear that
he also thought his humanity of no avail when those above him refused to
change British policy. 2 He had less time for Frank Pakenham, who made a
speech in the Lords that was ‘a model of feebleness and futility’. 3 The real
problem was not the quality of the men the government put in to look
after Germany, but the amount of power accorded to them to put things
right.

250

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

According to his own short and self-deprecating account, Pakenham
believed that he had been appointed because he was a Catholic, and a
majority of the Germans in the British Zone shared his religion. This is
unlikely to be true: although there is a majority of Catholics in the
Rhineland, they are not super-numerous in the Lutheran bastions of Lower
Saxony or Schleswig-Holstein. He was appointed in the spring of 1947: ‘I
was filled with passionate Christian desire to see justice done to this broken
people.’ He was taken to a school in Diisseldorf where some of the three
million children in the zone were fainting from hunger. He told them,
‘Never believe the whole world is against you, you’re absolutely right to be
proud of being German.’ Pakenham later claimed that the government
reined him in after that, but he nonetheless visited Germany twenty-six
times during his period of responsibility. 4 He did not convince everyone
that his intentions towards Germany were utterly benign, however. Franz
Sayn-Wittgenstein was outraged by a conversation with him in Frankfurt
during which he appeared to extol the virtues of the Morgenthau Plan. 5

If Hynd and Pakenham lacked real power it obviously resided with the
foreign secretary, Bevin, and his deputy Hector McNeil, the minister of
state. There was precious little sympathy for the Germans at the top. Prime
Minister Clement Attlee was quite open about it - he disliked the lot of
them, but he and his wife had once had a nice German maid. Bevin had
not forgiven the German socialists for voting war credits in 1914: ‘I try to
be nice but I ’ates them really,’ he said. 6 The first military governor was Sir
Bernard (later Viscount) Montgomery, with General Weeks serving as his
deputy. Weeks established a precedent, intentional or otherwise, of plant¬
ing men with industrial experience in positions of power in occupied
Germany. Apart from a distinguished record in the First World War, he had
only ever been a part-time soldier, and had risen to become chairman of
Pilkington’s glassworks in 1939. During the Second War he had been
appointed to the General Staff, becoming its deputy chief in 1942, ‘a
unique position for a citizen soldier’. 7 It is unlikely that his dual experience
was overlooked in his selection. Britain’s attitude to post-war Germany was
to some degree a reflection of its penury. It wanted the fastest possible eco¬
nomic recovery prior to Germany’s being granted independence. 8

Montgomery was replaced by the former head of Fighter Command,
Marshal of the RAF Sir Sholto Douglas, in 1946. Douglas had been head
of BAFO, the British forces of occupation. Like Weeks he was a university-
educated man and had sung in the Bach Choir before the war. He had also
been in the war industry, having quit the RAF during the inter-war years
to work for Handley Page. Douglas presided over the dismantling of the

251

ALLIED ZONES

Luftwaffe and oversaw the British entry into Berlin. He expressed a desire
to reintroduce ‘normal life’ into Germany, and although one of his first
duties was to approve the Nuremberg sentences, he had grave doubts. 9 He
resigned in October 1947 over the Biickeburg affair.*

His successor was General Sir Brian Robertson, whose father Sir
William had been military governor in Germany in 1918. Robertson was
born in Simla, and on his mother’s side he came from a long line of Indian
Army soldiers. India and the Raj provided some of the inspiration for the
British in Germany The British sense of innate superiority over their
former enemy was not lost on the Germans, who grumbled that they had
been turned into a Kolonialvolk — a colonial people like the Indians. At the
beginning, some Germans had even connived at a subservient role, pre¬
sumably because they believed they would be treated better that way.
There was a move by some politicians in Hanover to reinstate the old king¬
dom, divorced from Great Britain when Queen Victoria ascended the
throned That way Hanover would be part of the British Empire, and not
of a defeated Germany. 10 Robertson had been educated at the same
Charterhouse School as Weeks before attending the Royal Military
Academy at Woolwich. £ He was commissioned in the Royal Engineers —
a background he shared with Clay. Unlike Clay, however, he had seen ser¬
vice in the First World War and emerged with an MC and DSO. Between
the wars he had taken leave from the army to become managing director
of Dunlop in South Africa and had befriended Jan Smuts. His role in the
Second World War was largely administrative. He became deputy military
governor in succession to Weeks. After the Bonn government was created
in 1949 he stayed on as UK commissioner for a further year. Bevin worked
well with Robertson, who kept him abreast of what was going on by
weekly letters. The official history says Robertson was a ‘firm but com¬
passionate’ interpreter of British policy. 11

Montgomery, Douglas and Robertson had the power of life and death
without any interference from Westminster. They ruled with the aid of the
Control Commission Germany, or CCG. This was jestingly known as
‘Charlie Chaplin’s Grenadiers’ or ‘Complete Chaos Guaranteed’. It had a
gigantic staff" of nearly 25,000, five times as many as the American contingent,
and was reportedly venal, overpaid and riddled with scandal. British officers
serving in occupied Germany were sent to Bletchley for a course. According

* See below p. 390.

■f Under Salic Law a woman could not inherit the throne of Hanover.

4 There may be a case for seeing a Carthusian ‘mafia’ at the heart of British Military
Government. Robert Birley (see below) had been headmaster of Charterhouse since 1935.

252

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

to George Clare there were superficial lectures on German history and
classes on the function of the Control Commission. The potential officers
were a mixed bunch, including many women speaking excellent German.
Only about a fifth of the recruits dealt with administering Germany; the rest
was made up of senior officers who served in its ‘swollen bureaucracy’. 12 In
April 1946 the men were joined by their wives and families, further inflating
the household and leading to the requisitioning of yet more undamaged
homes. In Munster only 1,050 houses remained undamaged of a total of
3 3,73 7. The occupiers promptly requisitioned 445 of them — over 40 per
cent. 13 After Indian independence Germans feared that they would receive all
the former ICS (Indian Civil Service) men, some of whom might in fact
have been an improvement. There were some able administrators in the
CCG such as the banker Sir Vaughan Berry in Hamburg, who had studied
in Germany and knew the country and its people. 14

Victor Gollancz objected to a Herrenvolk mentality he saw among British
officers, and to the contrast he saw between the accommodation and food
in the officers’ mess and the miserable, half-starved hovels outside. Much
of Germany was uninhabitable. The military governor had a modest HQ
in Bad Oeynhausen, where all the inhabitants had been cleared out of the
spa town to make way for the British, and a country house in Melle; but
there were plans to build something more grandiose in Hamburg. It was to
be a vast military and social headquarters, presumably to rival the Soviet
HQ at Karlshorst or its American counterpart in Frankfurt. The complex
was to include hotels and clubs, as well as lodgings for married and unmar¬
ried officers. Had it gone ahead, an estimated 38,200 Germans would have
lost their homes. The district governor, Vaughan Berry, was vehemently
opposed to the project, and, given the state of British finances at the time,
it must have seemed like so much pie in the sky. 15

Au fond the British believed more in re-education than in denazification
and the story of the re-establishment of schooling and university education
in the zone was one of its great claims to fame. Robert Birley took a
couple of years offbetween the headmasterships of Charterhouse and Eton
to reorganise schools in the British Zone. As an historian he was well aware
that there was no precedent for the Allied position in Germany: ‘We occu¬
pied a country without a government and from the outset our occupying
forces had not only to prevent the revival of a military danger, they had to
rebuild a community.’ 16 Birley was evidently shocked by the godlessness of
the Nazi state. He had been to Brno, and seen the chapel in the Spielberg
fortress above the city. The SS had turned it over to paganism. The altar
had been mounted by a giant swastika containing a copy of Mein Kampf

253

ALLIED ZONES

and an immense eagle decorated the wall in the place of a reredos. The
British needed to change the minds and outlook of the people who did
such a thing, and who had suffered a ‘complete moral collapse’. Birley
stressed, however, that the German malaise was not an isolated phenom¬
enon but another manifestation of the ‘diseased condition of western
civilisation’. 17

Nothing was easy: the three Rs took a back seat to the three Fs (food,
fuel and footwear) and the three Ps (pens, pencils and paper). Birley
thought shoes the greatest of these. 18 He took heart when he saw a
German desire to get on. In cities laid waste by bombing he saw young
men as old as twenty-three trying to pass their Abitur to enter a university.
They were so many ‘Peter Pans’, utterly ignorant of anything other than
what their National Socialist instructors had told them. Many had been in
the Wehrmacht. These were prevented from entering higher education
before February 1947. And yet the British were forced to impose a numerus
clausa until 1949. The lack of places was down to the wrecking of the
buildings by bombing and the long-drawn-out process of screening all
university teachers though the Public Safety Branch (the name perhaps an
unintentional evocation of the French revolutionary terror). 19

Birley wanted to restore the love of freedom and a readiness to accept
personal responsibility. The most important men for the task, he thought,
were philosophers, and he pointed to the sterling work done at St Michael’s
House near Hamburg. It may have been a coincidence, but at the precise
moment when Wehrmacht men were finally allowed to enter the univer¬
sities, the dean of the faculty of philosophy at Cologne University appealed
to those who had emigrated to return to the department. 20 It was not so
much the philosophers, however, who tried to reform the German mind
as historians like Birley and Michael Balfour, who had been a friend of the
late Helmuth James von Moltke of Kreisau. Balfour was made director of
Information Services within the British Zone in 1946. He made it clear
that he needed to move quickly: ‘We are not in Germany forever.’ 21 As it
was, he lasted only a year.

One of the most successful British efforts at re-education was Wilton
Park in Buckinghamshire, a former POW camp which had been turned
over to residential courses for Germans run by Heinz Koeppler, Koeppler
was a German who had left his country to study at Oxford in 1933, and
had never gone home. The style was derived wholly from Oxford and
Cambridge — something utterly new to even the most privileged students
at the German universities. They were waited on at table, received tutor¬
ials and were allowed to discuss issues freely. The idea was to make men

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LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

ready for public life and to create a new non-Nazi elite. ‘Respectable’
Germans such as the socialist Kurt Schumacher, Bishop Dibelius, Pastor
Niemoller and Archbishop Frings also addressed the students. 22

Another distinguished historian, the expert on the Reformation A. G.
Dickens, was editing the Lubecker Nachrichtenblatt, aided by the inevitable
Viennese Jew. 23 There weren’t so many German-speakers around, apart
from these specialised historians. Another purveyor of British civilisation
was the British Council. Its well-meaning, bumbling approach is carica¬
tured in Wilfrid Hyde White’s role in The Third Man. The screenplay for
the film was written by Graham Greene, whose brother Hugh Carlton
Greene ran the NWDR radio in occupied Germany. The latter expressed
a view in total opposition to that of Vansittart, one which was closer to
Balfour: ‘I am here to make myself superfluous.’ He too thought the
Germans merely needed re-education. Kaye Sely and George Clare inter¬
viewed German denazification candidates in Greene’s office, while Greene
sat on the sofa to make sure they were fairly treated. Greene had saved a
little treat for himself: a magnificent car, the Maibach Tourer that had for¬
merly belonged to Karl Wolff, Himmler’s chief of staff. 24 Greene took over
from Rex Palmer as broadcasting controller to the British Zone. Palmer
had been a disaster — he had run children’s radio before the war, and it
showed.

The British needed to take stock of their zone. They had the largely
empty farmlands of Schleswig-Holstein, the industrial and farming areas of
Lower Saxony, and the industrialised but also highly cultural region of the
Rhine and the Ruhr. The area had been very badly damaged by bombing.
Cologne was 66 per cent destroyed, and Diisseldorf a staggering 93 per
cent. Aachen was described as a ‘fantastic, stinking heap of ruins’. The
British reordered their domain, creating Rhineland-Westphalia by amalga¬
mating two Lander. The French responded with Ordonnance 57 which
gave birth to Rhineland-Palatinate in August 1946. Naturally suspicion was
aroused again over the motives of the French. People imagined they were
trying to create independent German states before annexing them to
France. 25

The most glamorous posting was Berlin. The military train took the sol¬
diers into Charlottenburg Station, which was their introduction to the city,
if they were not lucky enough to fly into Gatow. British soldiers in Berlin
wore a flash on their sleeve. It was a black circle rimmed with red — ‘septic
arsehole’ they called it. British Control Commission’s headquarters in
Berlin was in ‘Lancaster House’ on the Fehrbelliner Platz. George Clare
described it as a ‘concave-shaped grey, concrete edifice’ in the style of

255

ALLIED ZONES

Albert Speer. Under the British Control Commission there were detach¬
ments in each of the boroughs under British control, together with a
barracks and an officers’ mess. There were messes all over the British
Sector. When George Clare reappeared in officers garb on his second
tour of duty, he was assigned to one on the Breitenbach Platz which was
large and lacked social cachet, and resembled a Lyons Corner House.
British Military Government was a large yellow building on the Theodor
Heuss Platz. This was the former Adolf Hitler Platz in Charlottenburg, the
name of which was changed to Reichskanzlerplatz until it was realised that
Hitler too had been chancellor. On the other side of the square was the
Marlborough Club, where officers could be gentlemen. For the Other
Ranks there was the Winston Club. 26

Germans had to receive permission to enter HQ Mil. Gov. This was not
issued to former Pgs. The rules were bent only if the person was of inter¬
est to the British - that is, a scientist, a pre-1933 politician or an expert
technician. A German editor seeking permission to start a magazine (such
as Rudolf Augstein with Der Spiegel) or an entrepreneur looking to put on
a theatrical performance had to take his suit to the Berlin Control Unit in
the Klaus Groth Strasse near by. The path to redemption in all cases was the
Fragebogen. The forms had to be filled in, and any membership of Nazi
organisations checked out. With time minor Nazis were let off the hook.
As far as soldiers were concerned, the Wehnnacht members who were not
already languishing in a POW camp were fine. The SS was divided into
grey and black. Blacks (Totenkopf) were interned, greys (Waffen-SS) were
released. Eventually the British authorities learned that separating black and
grey was not so cut and dried. 27

The life of an interrogator was filled with unexpected surprises: charm¬
ing young men who turned out on closer examination to have been
inveterate Nazis, and rebarbative Prussian militarists who, it transpired,
were anything but. Clare had a visit from the widow of the General Carl-
Heinrich von Stlilpnagel who wanted to join her daughter in the British
Zone. He eventually recalled that this general was the one who had locked
up the Paris SS and the Gestapo on 20 July 1944, who attempted suicide
when the Plot failed but managed only to blind himself, and who was
gruesomely hanged with the rest. Frau von Stiilpnagel would not hear of
special pleading: her husband was just a German, doing his job. 28

Despite the lordly nature of their approach, the British had a reputation
for being more decent people than the other Allies, but that did not mean
they were without sin. Len Carpenter, an escaped POW who had holed up
in the Neue Westend of Berlin until the arrival of the Allies, ran a

256

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

successful business as a black-marketeer and pimp (unpaid, he assures us) to
the British occupation forces. 29 In November 1947 Speer described one of
the British guards in Spandau who had arrived drunk for work: ‘He
boasted to his fellows of the vast amount of beer he had drunk, and hinted
at pleasant company.’ The party had ended only three hours before. Speer
lent him his bed so he could sleep it off and patrolled the corridor lest a
superior officer appear. The man was still unsteady on his feet hours later. 30

One of the oddest briefs given to the British army occupying Germany
was to punish its very soil. This was the case with the island of Heligoland,
which had been British for most of the nineteenth century, but which had
been acquired by the Kaiser in 1890 in what he saw as his first foreign
political coup. 31 The island had been heavily armed during the ‘Kaiser’
Reich, and in Nazi times it bristled not only with guns, but also with sub¬
marine docks. The RAF destroyed most of the defences as well as the town
in a raid of 18—19 April 1945. On 11 May, the Royal Navy made a foray
across the waters of the Baltic to see what was left. Despite the pulverising
the island had received during the war, the U-boat shelters were undam¬
aged, as was the network of tunnels under the island together with the
diesel trains that plied them. 32

At Potsdam it was agreed that Germany was to be completely disarmed
and that all German fortifications were to be destroyed. For the British that
meant primarily the naval forts on the Frisian Islands and Heligoland.
British High Command calculated that they would need 48,400 man hours
and 730 tons of explosives. 33 They began to prepare for Operation Big
Bang. When this occurred two years later, on 18 April 1948, it was a literal
case of over-kill. Having decided presumably that the previous estimate had
been too low, the British set off 7,000 tons of munitions in what was
described as the ‘greatest non-nuclear explosion in history’. A huge ‘cauli¬
flower’ of smoke shot up 8,000 feet from the catacombs 180 feet below the
surface of the rock, but once the skies cleared it was apparent that instead
of eradicating the hated island, they had destroyed a mere 14 per cent of its
surface. 34

For several years the RAF and the American air force based in Britain
continued to use the island as a bombing range. Preparations were made to
test the British atom bomb there and trials were made of chemical
weapons. 35 The idea of using the island for nuclear tests was finally aban¬
doned out of consideration for the population of Cuxhaven, which was
only thirty miles away. The German fishermen who had previously caught
lobsters off the islands were at last allowed to return to their homes in 1952,
largely as a result of a campaign launched by a young theology student,

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ALLIED ZONES

Rene Leudesdorff. 36 The RAF had proved very reluctant to hand over
their toy.

Many Germans — above all German women — went to work for the
Allies. The sculptress and later nun Tisa von der Schulenburg had fled her
native Mecklenburg, leaving behind her the ancestral manor of Tressow
and Trebbow, the Schloss where she had lived with her husband, C. U.
von Barner. Tisa settled in Liibeck in the British Zone and went to work
as a secretary to Heinz Biel, the half-English industry officer in the
Military Government. She endured the endless complaints and applica¬
tions, the dispossessed seeking to repossess, the petitions to restart local
businesses from Niederegger Marzipan and Schwartauer Marmalade to the
aeronautics company Dornier and the porcelain manufacturers Villeroy
and Boch.

Her boss did not impress her. Had he been purely German, she
thought, he would have rushed to join the Party. Like most other think¬
ing Germans, Tisa was infuriated by the Fragebogen. She had flown in the
face of her noble, Nazi father, married a Jew and gone to England before
the war to become an artist. 37 She left to serve as a social worker in a
British military depot in Glinde near Hamburg. There were two thousand
German civilians there, ‘flotsam and jetsam from every party and province.
The former leading lawyer and a man who had been consul in Australia
mucked in with merchants and workers; it was only about survival,
income and bread.’ The only question they asked was ‘How do I sur¬
vive?’ 38 The British had promised to give her officer-status and she was
responsible to the major commanding. That Christmas the British tried to
inject a bit of party-spirit into the depot: ‘the English [he] failed to under¬
stand that we had no desire to dance, we had no desires at all; not to dance
or to sing’. The soldiers fed hundreds of children. One of the sergeants
told Tisa: ‘The kids bit into the oranges and ate them skin and all, like
apples.’ Tisa not unreasonably concluded that these children had never
encountered oranges.

The situation deteriorated with the weather that winter. The zone had
never been self-sufficient. Even before the war it had produced only half
the food it needed. 39 Two workers froze to death for want of warm bed¬
ding. Tisa managed to locate 200 blankets for 2,000 people - a find that was
bound to cause more trouble than it cured. At midday the workers received
a thin, evil-smelling soup. An hour later they were hungry again. A hun¬
dred men were suffering from dropsy. Big men weighed no more than fifty
kilos. One of the British officers allowed them to take the leftovers from
the mess — although this was highly illegal. They procured an oven, milk

258

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

and potatoes and in time they were able to lay on a supplementary meal at
midday. The men began to put on weight again. They were over the
worst.

Sometimes they walked the fourteen kilometres to Billstedt where there
were trains to Hamburg. Trams took them through vast expanses of ruins.
Even four years after the end of the war the sight of Hamburg moved the
American diplomat George Kennan to reflect on whether it had all been
worth while: ‘Here for the first time, I felt an unshakable conviction that
no momentary military advantage . . . could have justified this stupen¬
dous, careless destruction of civilian life and of material values, built up
laboriously by human hands over the course of centuries for purposes
having nothing to do with war.’ 40

It was this barren townscape that struck Victor Gollancz during his
time in Hamburg. He stayed at British officers’ messes and marvelled at the
copiousness of the menus; he went to the town hall and drank rare bottles
of ‘magnificent hock’ which a careful concierge had rescued from the
Nazis. 41 In a hovel he came across the stoic spirit of the north German as
they eked out their days under a picture bearing the legend ‘Lerne leiden
ohne zu klagen’ (Learn to suffer without complaint). It showed a picture of
the Emperor Frederick, who died of throat cancer ninety-nine days into his
reign. 42

The British were not frank about demontage. In theory they washed
their hands of it, but demontage was carried out in the British Zone on
behalf of client states. German industrial installations were shipped out to
Greece and Yugoslavia — which received equipment from Krupps. 43
Demontage was controlled by the Allied agreement of 24 January 1946
which established the Inter-Allied Reparations Agency, or IARA. America
had ended the Lease—Lend Agreement six months before and presented
Britain with a colossal bill, demanding cash on the nail. The British press
was antipathetic to demontage, and the Americans were shocked at every
British attempt to remove plants. Some of it could be written off as ‘booty’
which was not controlled by IARA, and in other instances it could be
excused by the need to dismantle Category I War Plants (that way they
were able to take home much-needed naval installations). 44

The Soviets were desperate to grab what was left of the Ruhr. The
British were supposed to hand over 10 per cent of what was produced.
After 1948 those deliveries were stopped. Krupps in Essen was the property
of all the Allies, but Clay in particular was keen to keep the Soviets out.
Parts of the Krupps empire had fallen to the Poles in Silesia and the
Russians in Magdeburg. Jet planes, wind tunnels and other interesting bits

259

ALLIED ZONES

of military equipment were lifted out of the country as quickly as possible.
In other instances Category I was stretched to include plants that might
later offer competition with British industries. The Germans smelled a rat
and suspected that they were seeing the implementation of the
Morgenthau Plan. This led to attacks on CCG officials. Once or twice the
British actually started up a valuable branch of German industry. One case
in point was Volkswagen in Wolfsburg. The Nazis had intended their
‘Peoples Car’ or ‘Kraft durch Freude Auto’ (Strength through Joy car) to
become the property of every decent German, and money was docked
from their pay for that purpose, but by the time the war started only two
had been built and the factory was turned over to war work. The British
started the project up again, with Major Ivan Hirst at the wheel, and made
10,000 ‘beetles’ before October 1946 largely for their own needs. The car
became ‘the wheels of the British occupation’. 45

Gollancz watched demontage in the Ruhr and in Hamburg Docks. The
removal of Hoechst from Dortmund threatened to ruin what was left of the
city. In Hamburg large parts of the Bloem and Voss shipyard had been
blown up. It was a short-sighted policy that removed the possibility of work
for the starving people, and wantonly destroyed useful property. Despite
statements by Hynd, Germans were being turned out of their homes. There
was a terrible shortage of space: in Diisseldorf the average home amounted
to 3.2 square metres. Meanwhile the British swanned around in an ugly way
(although they did not force the Germans to walk in the road like the
French). ‘The plain fact is that there are two worlds in Germany today, the
world of the conquered and the world of the conquerors. They meet at the
peripheries, but their hearts beat in an inhuman isolation.’ 46

Tisa von der Schulenburg’s sister-in-law Charlotte found a moment to
return to her late husband’s family house at Trebbow while the British still
clung to the westernmost reaches of Mecklenburg. She reported to the
CO, whom she found in one of the guest rooms looking out on to the
lake. Over his head hung a portrait of Charlotte herself and the children.
She waved the pass she had obtained in Plon. ‘Ah, the lady in the painting,’
he responded laconically. Everything had been moved by the refugees and
soldiers and nothing looked right any more. She was not allowed to take
the children’s beds, but she did find the family porcelain — Meissen,
Nymphenburg and Schlaggenwald — and by a ruse was able to enlist some
soldiers to carry it out to the lorry she had got hold of. She found the beds
she was looking for in the forester’s house, as well as Fritz-Dietlof’s arm¬
chair. She was able to retrieve a typewriter, a gramophone and some of her
bedlinen. That night she and the children ate their frugal soup off the finest

260

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

china. The next day was 28 June and the British yielded their toe-hold in
Mecklenburg to the Russians. 47

Ten-year-old Karl-Heinz Bohrer had seen little of the occupying armies
since he was ‘liberated’ by American troops at Remagen. At the end of
1945 he was taken to Cologne to visit his estranged mother and the doctor
she lived with. He had left the Rhineland city in 1943. Now it was com¬
pletely transformed. In the centre not a single building was intact. As there
was no shelter in Cologne, he went to live in southern Westphalia. At once
he was aware of the British. They had already put their stamp on German
life, in the same way as the other occupying powers. He recalls the pleas¬
ure of tinned sardines, white bread and black tea. The British army seemed
to him to be more professional and ‘more military’ than the American. Its
soldiers were calm, where Americans were noisy; he felt he had nothing
more to fear. At school they learned English.

In the winter of 1946—7, Karl-Heinz was taken to the cinema for the
first time by his Irish grandfather. He saw Laurence Olivier’s Henry V in
English, with German subtitles. He cried with happiness at the end, and
had to be taken three times. He fell in love with the English language,
which became an important factor in coming to terms with occupation.
Looking back on the time he felt that the British pursued a sensitive but
unflashy cultural policy in their zone. 48 For him, growing up in the west,
a new orthodoxy was developing. Intellectually the period was informed
by Jaspers, Habermas (‘German history starts at Auschwitz’) and Professor
Heimpel of Gottingen. Hartwig von Hentig and Georg Picht proved influ¬
ential pedagogues. Education was much discussed and the writings of
Schiller invoked. Germans were not to get into the same mess again. The
Nazis were temporarily cleared out of the universities, but those establish¬
ments remained otherwise unchanged until 1968. For him the outstanding
political figure of the time was Carlo Schmid. What was to become West
Germany sought to identify with the West.

The Beginnings of West Germany in the British Zone

In the Rhineland the former mayor of Cologne, Konrad Adenauer, had
been forced into retirement by Hitler’s men. He went on prolonged gar¬
dening leave, and resisted all attempts to become involved. He was
suspicious of the July Plot against Hitler, but was imprisoned all the same.
The Nazis had known what they were doing in the last months of the war.
They executed some 5,000 people who might have created the cadre for a

ALLIED ZONES

post-Hitlerian Germany. Very few of those killed had any direct involve¬
ment with the July Plotters. The bloodbath was intended to create a
political vacuum.

Cologne’s proximity to France meant that Adenauer was liberated rather
earlier than any politician in Berlin. American tanks were seen in his home
village of Rhondorf as early as 15 March 1945. The following day two
American officers arrived at Adenauer’s door to ask him to resume the
office of mayor of Cologne. To their surprise he refused: he had three sons
away at war, and he feared reprisals. He must have been aware of what had
happened to the mayor of Aachen (he had been murdered). In his heart of
hearts, however, he might have already been eyeing up a bigger job: that of
post-war German leader. 49 Adenauer was put under some pressure to
change his mind. One who wanted him to take up the offer was Josef
Frings, the German primate and archbishop of Cologne. He was interested
in the idea of rebuilding the city, the medieval core of which had been
smashed by the 1,000-bomber raid. The ever-cautious Adenauer agreed to
run Cologne once hostilities were over, and he took up his old job on 3
May. In his earliest statements he was already seeking to make Prussia the
scapegoat for the failure of German democracy, even if it had been as a
Prussian that he had been elected mayor of Cologne and a member of the
Herrenhaus (or House of Lords) in 1917.

He was flattered that the Americans appeared to hold him in such high
esteem and had placed him at the top of their ‘white list’, although — as a
recent biographer has pointed out — this might have had something to do
with the fact that his name began with A. 50 After a while, the Americans
lost their glamour in his eyes: he found them childish and was relieved
when authority in the region passed to the British on 21 June. His relief
was premature, however — there was to be no repeat of the more courte¬
ous attitudes of 1918. The ban on frat was still in force, denazification was
on the cards, and — as one British officer put it — no German is persona grata
with the military government. 51 What is more, the British were the slow¬
est of the Allies to allow the Germans to express themselves politically.
Montgomery made a promise to restore party politics on 6 August 1945,
but it was not until 29 September that parties became legal again. 52

The French may have started as the poorest and least regarded of the
victorious Allies but it turned out that their plans to atomise Germany tal¬
lied with the eventual solution to the problem. What they were proposing
for the Rhineland had possibilities: there you could erect a state that was
Catholic, free-market driven, anti-Prussian, federalist and dominated by the
Rhenish upper-middle classes. The European and German division along

262

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

ideological lines was no more or less than a foundation to build on. The
German state would be made in the west and act as a sponge that might
absorb the other parts of Germany at a later date. This was summed up by
Wilhelm Hausenstern, ambassador to Paris at the time of the founding of
the Federal Republic: ‘Adenauer conceived the Federal Republic on the
Rhenish, or even Lower Rhenish Axis.’ The Rhine was the natural centre
point for the new Europe, the link between Germany and western Europe.
It was an ore that was a conglomerate ‘Catholicism and liberalism, north
and southern Europe, French lifestyle and Prussian virtue’. 53

The mayor wanted to readjust the balance, above all by concluding a
sort of concordat with the French. Prussia had had only a marginal role in
the Holy Roman Empire, and Adenauer now chose to make his vision of
Charlemagne’s Europe into the foundation stone for Germany’s future.
Prussia had become a monster to him — he attributed to it all the vices of
the Nazis, despite the fact that Prussia (which had amounted to two-thirds
of pre-war Germany) was notably under-represented in Nazi Germany, and
that most of the leaders of the movement came from the Catholic south
and west. One of the most pungent — Joseph Goebbels - was a man from
his beloved Rhineland. Adenauer was singing a tune that appealed to the
Control Council: they too were keen to make Prussia the black sheep that
had led Germany astray. It was a convenient argument anyway, because
much of the Prussian heartland had been lost to Poland and Russia at
Potsdam. Adenauer could clearly put it on with a trowel if he had to — but
he didn’t have to. On 25 February 1947, the Control Council issued its
Law No. 46: ‘The Prussian State which from early days has been a bearer
of militarism and reaction in Germany has de facto ceased to exist.’ Its
remaining agencies and institutions were scrapped in ‘the interests of
preservation of peace and security of peoples and with the desire to assure
further reconstruction of the political life of Germany on a democratic
basis’. 54

It seemed that there was a possibility of an agreement between Adenauer
and the Allies, but the British frustrated him at every turn. It was then that
he turned his attention to the French. They too were victims of the Allies,
perhaps — their vanities were also wounded. But for de Gaulle, they might
have had to brook the ignominy of military rule from London. The Yalta
Conference had carved out a small corner of Germany to be ruled from
Paris. Adenauer pinned his hopes on its expansion to cover Cologne, as de
Gaulle was agitating for a larger slice of the cake. In the summer and
autumn he had a number of meetings with the French arranged by his
friend the Swiss consular official ‘Uncle Toni’ Weiss. The idea was

263

ALLIED ZONES

Germano-French economic co-operation in the Rhineland. He suggested
that Germany should be broken up into three small quasi-autonomous
states. Naturally he would be the ruler of the one that centred on the
Rhineland. 55

Weiss’s undiplomatic wheeling and dealing caused anger in Berne, and
Adenauers flirtations annoyed the British. They may have known little
about his meetings with the French, but they were aware that he was hold¬
ing talks with politicians in Bad Godesberg and Konigswinter aimed at
creating the political party that would be the Christian Democratic Union,
or CDU, of the post-war German right. His adversary was the head of the
British Military Government in North Rhine Province, Brigadier John
Barraclough, who thought Adenauer increasingly unreliable politically.
Barraclough was a tough soldier, but not necessarily a shrewd political ana¬
lyst. On 6 October Adenauer was summoned to appear before Barraclough
and two other officers in Cologne and was denied even the right to sit down
in their presence. They read out a letter dismissing him from office. He was
to be banned from all political activity and was to leave Cologne as quickly
as possible. This put a temporary end to his dalliance with the CDU, for
which he was an obvious leader. Adenauer felt grossly insulted. 56

The British clearly believed that Adenauer was incompetent. Cologne
lagged behind the rest of North Rhine when it came to the business of
clearing up and sanitising the city. As the director of Military Government,
General Gerald Templer, put it, ‘The city was in a terrible mess; no water,
no drainage, no light, no food. It stank of corpses.’ 57 The decision to sack
Adenauer was regretted almost immediately. In Berlin, Noel (later Lord)
Annan, then a colonel serving in the Political Division of the Control
Council, saw that an awful gaffe had been committed, and both he and
Captain Michael Thomas* were anxious to mend fences. Perhaps fearing
loss of face, Barraclough was not prepared to reinstate Adenauer, but very
soon the British allowed him the opportunity to indulge in politics again,
albeit only within the limits of the city of Cologne. During the crisis,
Annan went to see a badly shaken Adenauer. He broached the issue of the
politician’s attitude to Britain. Adenauer replied that he was not anti-
British, but that ‘he found difficulty in seeing Britain as a European state’. 58
As a result of the interview, the ban on Adenauer’s political activity was
completely lifted, and he was free to come and go in Cologne whenever he
pleased. He could now play his role in the founding of the CDU.

* The former Ulrich Hollander, son of the Berlin writer Felix Hollander. As a Jewish
refugee he had served in the British Pioneer Corps.

264

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

Adenauer had rivals for the time being. Some of the July Plotters sur¬
vived and were popular with the German people and, more important,
with the Allies. The Christian trades-unionist leader Jakob Kaiser, who
based his ‘Christian socialism’ on the Sermon on the Mount, 59 the former
Centre Party politician and minister Andreas Hermes, and Adenauer’s later
foreign policy adviser Herbert Blankenhorn had been part of Helmuth
James von Moltke’s Kreisau Circle, which had looked forward to the dawn
of a new Europe. At Moltke’s Schloss at Kreisau in Silesia they discussed
dropping notions of hegemony in order to dig out the roots of war.
Germany had been perceived as a European counterweight to the United
States as early as 1942. 60 The French right had also listed towards the idea
of a united Europe during the Collaboration; they recognised the fait accom¬
pli of occupation.

Kaiser’s views did not prevail in the infant CDU, however, because he
saw the French as the enemy. The French consistently opposed German
unity, which they saw as an attempt to restore the venomous Reich.
Adenauer, on the other hand, envisaged working with the French from the
beginning. 61 Kurt Schumacher, head of the SPD in the British Zone,
thought the French the enemy for different reasons: they wanted to bleed
Germany of its resources. 62 Andreas Hermes was in an uncomfortable pos¬
ition, fronting the fledgling party in the Russian Zone. Adenauer’s task was
to assert his authority in the British Zone and to take control of the Party.

Hermes was expelled from Berlin for opposing the Soviet policy on land
reform. That meant that Adenauer’s chief rival was Kaiser in Berlin. Kaiser
was backing the wrong horse in the old Reich capital, which was to be
sidelined and virtually eliminated from post-war German politics.
Adenauer was not averse to using pure fabrication to do down his political
enemies. He claimed that Kaiser had been holding talks with Soviet offi¬
cials and former Wehrmacht generals, which was enough to discredit him
with the Party. Adenauer’s position was shored up by the arrest of 600
members of the Party in the Soviet Zone in August 1947. 63 In the end it
proved very easy for him to grab the presidency of the CDU in the British
Zone and see off any possible challenge from Hermes.

On the left, Adenauer’s rival was Schumacher, a First World War veteran
and front-line socialist politician. He came from Culm in West Prussia and
was the very model of a Protestant Prussian. His mentality contrasted with
that of Adenauer. There was none of the cosiness of the Rhineland. The
Culmer was always on the battlements, watching out for the arrival of the
enemy. He had lost an arm fighting for Germany only to be rewarded by
nine years, nine months and nine days in Hitler’s camps, including an

265

ALLIED ZONES

eight-year stint in Dachau. His solid principles and experience during the
Third Reich made him one of the very few German politicians with spot¬
lessly democratic credentials. 64 He felt very much alone at first: his
colleagues, the fighters, were all dead. The concentration camps, the
bombing and the 20 July Plot ‘have swallowed so many of us’. 65

He was soon seen as a potential post-war German leader, but he fell by
the wayside when West Germany moved to the right. As the leader of the
SPD in the Western zones, he might have been expected to find favour
with the ruling Labour Party in Britain, but he was not impressed by
British socialists. The British nonetheless felt responsible for him. When he
went to Berlin in February 1946 he was provided for: ‘The visitor from
Hanover travelled in a British aircraft, slept in a British bed, had a British
car with a British escort at his disposal and was for the duration of his stay
in Berlin accompanied by a British officer with a revolver at the ready.’ This
British patronage was later used by Adenauer to suggest that Schumacher
was a Labour Party puppet. 66

The SPD was splitting in two. The leader in the Soviet Zone, Otto
Grotewohl, was taking his faction into the new communist—socialist front,
or SED. It was not a road Schumacher was prepared to take. He had seen
the communists wreck Parliament in 1932, at the time of the Preussenschlag
which brought down the Prussian state government and opened the way to
Nazism. His soulmate in Berlin was Gustav Dahrendorf, another ‘red’
who had done time in a concentration camp, and a bitter opponent of the
SED. The British had been hedging their bets. At one stage they were
wooing Grotewohl, or ‘Jugo’ {derjunge Gott because of his imposing build
and striking looks). The Russians were using both stick and carrot: to bring
over the socialists. Dahrendorf’s son Ralf, later a British peer, remem¬
bered the carrot: it came in the form of ‘pajoks’, food parcels at
Christmas. 67

In Berlin that winter Schumacher had talks with Hynd and the political
advisers Sir William Strang and Christopher Steel, and with Clay and
Murphy. The British thought the Russians would kidnap him. He was evi¬
dently a man who inspired protection. Dachau had wrecked him physically,
a fact that was further compounded by his hunger strike at the concentra¬
tion camp. His assistants combed the black market for milk and butter
which they thought would assuage his delicate stomach. Yet Schumacher
did little to help by his diet of black coffee and cigarettes. 68 This austerity
was not everyone’s cup of tea. Like many Prussians, Schumacher lacked
charm. That was where Carlo Schmid came in. He had the social graces
Schumacher lacked, and could bring the SPD into Germany’s shabby

266

LIFE IN THE BRITISH ZONE

drawing rooms. The half-French Schmid was deemed to be at home any¬
where: talking about Baudelaire, writing poetry, dealing with points of law
as a professor of jurisprudence or eating with the former rulers of
Wiirttemberg off the finest china. 9

Schumacher may have taken up the British offer of protection, but he
was bitter about the Allies, whose reputation was less than spotless in his
eyes. He thought the idea of collective guilt an abomination. Writing to
Hans Vogel, he vented his ire:

You could not imagine what a frightful effect the propaganda attempt to
impose ‘collective guilt’ on the German people has had on the German
opponents of Nazism. The men and women in our country who even
before 1933 risked so much in the fight against Nazism and Big Business,
who after the assumption of power, at a time when the present victorious
powers were still concluding state treaties with the Hitler regime, were
working underground and were being put in prisons and concentration
camps; they should recognise their guilt. They must do this in no way and
in no circumstances.

Schumacher felt himself personally defamed by the notion of collective guilt. 70

Adenauer and Schumacher were mutually antipathetic. The Protestant
Prussian was for a central administration, the Catholic Rhinelander for a
federal state. They had difficulty speaking to one another. Michael Thomas
saw it in their lifestyles: Adenauer was gutburgerlich, while Schumacher
worked from a bombed-out building, and yet his talk was coloured by wit
and irony. The British brought the two men together in Hamburg in
March 1946 to tell them they were going to merge the states of North
Rhine and Westphalia in response to the Russians introducing a one-party
state in their zone. Adenauer remembered Sir Sholto Douglas making his
entry to ‘drum rolls and the blast of trumpets’. It was all very colonial: the
Germans might speak, but the British kept all the power in their own
hands. 71 They appointed an old schoolfriend of Adenauer’s, Rudolf
Amelunxen, to head the administration. Adenauer remained aloof, as he
did when the CDU was asked to form part of the governing party in the
Landtag. In reality the new Nordrhein-Westfalen was Adenauer’s dream:
one of the three quasi-independent states he had imagined for Germany.
He would pick up the western German remnants of his detested Prussia,
and the centre of gravity for Germany would be shipped several hundred
miles to the west. Schumacher was appalled.

Adenauer had not been singled out — the British behaved in a super¬
cilious way towards several German post-war politicians. One was Karl

267

ALLIED ZONES

Arnold, Oberbiirgermeister of Diisseldorf. He was second only to
Adenauer in the CDU and minister president designate in Nordrhein-
Westfalen, but he failed to grab the top job because he was too modest and
believed his time had passed. Victor Gollancz called him ‘one of the half
dozen best Germans I met’. 72 George Clare had arranged to meet him at
his Berlin mess, but the mess butler informed him that Germans were not
allowed. Not only had they not let him in, they had left him outside in the
cold. This occurred in March 1947, some eighteen months before the
restoration of the German state. 73

Culture

The British management of the arts was closely bound up with weeding
out Nazis — an admirable aim in itself, but one which had very little to do
with promoting cultural activity. It became increasingly obvious, as well,
that the British were netting just the small fry, and there was more and
more grumbling at home. The complaints about the denazification policy
eventually spread to the Germans, who were annoyed to see the Party big-
shots go free while the authorities continued to harass rank-and-file
members who had done nothing monstrous. 74

The British did a few things well, if half-heartedly. They had their own
version of the Russian culture club, Die Mowe. It was a requisitioned villa
in the Branitzerplatz in Neu Westend where they could entertain screen
and theatre people over a whisky. The club had its own chatelaine in the
person of Else Bongers, a former dancer who had suffered under the
Nazis. 75 The British also sponsored performances of the Berlin
Philharmonic Orchestra and operas at the Volksoper in their sector. Just
like for Margret Boveri, the first post-war concert proved a memorable
event for the Kaiser’s daughter, Victoria Louise. In her case she heard the
Berlin Philharmonic play in Celle. Celibidache was conducting. As there
was no other room available, they used the riding school of the town stud,
and the podium was set up in the same place as they had once trained the
celebrated Celle stallions, while the chairs were laid out in the sand of the
riding school. Music ‘tore us away from the murkiness of our everyday lives
and lifted us into the sphere of the pure and beautiful. It was like redemp¬
tion.’ Wilhelm Furtwangler might not have expressed it better himself 76

268

Life in the French Zone

When they at last reappeared, their faces looked as white as the slips
of paper they carried in their hands, and they were speechless. They
had spent that half an hour arguing with three stubborn, disinterested
little bureaucrats already half asleep with wine. The men had carefully
examined, or pretended to, every paper in their possession and then
insisted on their tilling out a sheaf of forms. Only after these had been
carefully read, checked and rechecked were four Americans given
permission to inhabit two rooms in Stuttgart for the night.

James Stern, The Hidden Damage , London 1990, 104—5

F rances German policy looked suspiciously like a return to Cardinal
Richelieu and the Thirty Years War. The French were largely indiffer¬
ent to the question of whether a German was a Nazi or not, or whether he
needed to be cured; it was enough to be a German. 1 They wanted a frag¬
mentation of the enemy who had invaded their territory three times in
under the century. The man they installed to enforce their will on the
ground was a hero of their African wars, General Pierre Koenig — Scipio
Africanus. Unlike Scipio, however, Koenig was anything but patrician.
His civilian sidekick could not have been more different: Emile Laffon was
a brilliant lawyer, a member of the resistance and an intimate of de Gaulle,
albeit a socialist. 2

The French were not free of the sort of behaviour more commonly
associated with the Russians. Even after the scandals of Freudenstadt,
Stuttgart and Vaihingen, James Stern heard the testimony of a half-Jewish
woman friend in Seldau in Bavaria. The husband was away working in his
hospital in Munich when the French Moroccans arrived at the farmhouse.
They left the woman alone — ‘by some miracle they didn’t touch her’ — but
the whole house was looted and most of the furniture smashed. They
killed the livestock and stole whatever they could carry. 3

Initially the French were deeply unpopular in Germany because of their

269

ALLIED ZONES

insistence on coming as conquerors. As far as the atrocities were con¬
cerned, they adhered to the policy ‘Never apologise, never explain.’ They
had their grievances: the bits and bobs of Germany that they had received
off the Anglo-American plate continued to make little sense. They had 64
per cent of Baden 4 — the Residenz in Baden-Baden but not the capital,
Karlsruhe. In Wiirttemberg they had Hohenzollern, the minuscule former
territory of the Catholic cousins of the rulers of Prussia and Germany. It
was significant that the capital — it hardly merits such a grandiose descrip¬
tion - Sigmaringen had been the last seat of Petain’s and Laval’s Vichy
government. The French ruled Sigmaringen, but not the coveted Stuttgart,
and they had large amounts of the Rhineland, including Mainz — but not
Cologne or Frankfurt.

They came into formal possession of the ‘Brassiere’ in July 1945.
Unlike the Americans, who requisitioned entire areas and fenced them
off from the German population, the French sequestered good houses
and villas but erected no fences. In Baden-Baden they put their admin¬
istrative bodies in the best hotels of the spa town. 5 Military headquarters
was in Freudenstadt — an extraordinary choice of location — but one that
was, perhaps, in keeping with their possession of Sigmaringen: they
were the best custodians of their own secrets. They continued to voice
their disgruntlement, and tried to swap their portion of Wiirttemberg for
the rest of Baden, which would have afforded them not only a big town
in Karlsruhe, but also a territory that was contiguous with their border,
but the Americans were not willing to do the deal/' The Americans
wanted the whole motorway that went from Karlsruhe to Munich, via
Stuttgart.

Proportionally speaking, the French were the most densely popu¬
lated of the Western occupiers: they had eighteen men for every
thousand Germans, the British had ten, the Americans three. They set
about the business of denazifying, politically re-educating and punishing
war criminals while assuring the population that they would have a
‘bearable standard of living’. 7 They also punished at least some of the
rapists of Freudenstadt and Stuttgart. Nothing was said to the locals, but
the soldiers were informed that such acts were not to be tolerated, and
death sentences were handed out/ Being kind but firm was meant to
conceal a darker purpose — the French had not forgotten their aims to
sever parts of western Germany like the Rhine, the Ruhr and the Saar,
and they wanted to encourage provincial loyalty above all. They were
frustrated in their attempts to prise the Ruhr away from the British.
Meanwhile they transferred what resources they could to France, and

270

LIFE IN THE FRENCH ZONE

rounded up all available manpower for their own version of the STO, the
service de travail obligatoire, by which the French had been forced to work
for the Nazis.

The Soviet example of cruelty towards the Germans was one reason for
the milder treatment they received in the ZOF, or Zone d’Occupation
Franfaise. There was a conflict between the two wings of the administra¬
tion in Baden-Baden, or ‘Little Vichy’ as the French communists rendered
it, Vichy also being a spa. The communists were alluding too to the fact
that there were quite a few Vichy men lying low in occupied Germany.
The military chief Pierre Koenig was anxious to be tough, while his civil¬
ian counterpart Emile Laffon believed that occupation meant reform, a
difference of approach that led to frequent fights. The French took all they
could: between 1945 and 1947 some 45—47 per cent of the ZOF’s exports
left for France. Their sale in France made the ZOF a healthy profit of eight
million dollars, while the Germans were subjected to heavy taxes, strict
rations and a wage freeze. On the other hand the inhabitants of the ZOF
could boast some advantage over, say, the inhabitants of Brandenburg or
Thuringia: they had a free press, democratic elections and the right to an
education that stressed French and European cultural achievement. 9

The Germans did not entirely acquiesce in French rule, especially given
their supposed conquerors’ insistence on their ‘right to plunder’ and their
view that ‘le boche payera’ (the Flun will pay). The half-French professor
of law Carlo Schmid in Tubingen knew how to play the fish. Fie was
quickly made chief of the ZOF’s Democratic Union and, when govern¬
ments were formed in the French provinces, he became minister president
of Wiirttemberg-FIohenzollern. 10 Schmid was an outstanding politician,
the father of the basic law (the Federal Republic’s constitution) and no
French stooge. Within the SPD he appeared to be a federalist, but was
rather vague about this when challenged. 11 He fought for German rights:
‘Democracy without sovereignty is a contradiction in terms,’ he told his
audiences. He also railed against the terrible demontage in the zone. He
was not alone. In October 1947, for example, there were strong objections
to cutting the electricity at Tuttlingen Hospital between 7.30 a.m. and
noon and again from 4 p.m. to 8. It was pointed out that operations were
being performed and babies born. On 21 June that year the Baden minis¬
ter of economics Dr Lais had complained ‘before God and humanity’ that
more machines were being dismantled and taken to France. 12 ‘Unlicensed
requisitions’ amounted to somewhere between fifty and seventy million
Reichsmarks in pre-war values. Ludwig Erhard estimated the value of the
machinery going west at RM180 million in 1945—6 alone. 13

271

ALLIED ZONES

Sometimes the French showed themselves more pragmatic than the
Americans. Where the latter had sequestered IG Farben and banished the
directors, the French allowed BASF in Ludwigshafen to remain as it was.
On the other hand they made no bones about pocketing a chlorine busi¬
ness in Rheinfelden, a viscose business in Rottweil, the Preussag mines or
the chemicals group Rhodia in Freiburg-im-Breisgau and awarding them
to French concerns. In Friedrichshafen they shipped out everything useful
in the Zeppelin works and did much the same at Dornier and Maybach. 14
Clay voiced his frustration at the French ‘living off the land’ in Baden-
Wiirttemberg, but it was to some extent an expression of a more
old-fashioned attitude to war and conquest, where naked self-interest
played a large part. 15

The French too managed to pick up a few scientists, whom they wanted
for their missile programme. There had been a research institute outhoused
at Biberach in their zone. The Germans were lured over to work for them
by the promise of excellent conditions. They could live in Germany and
work in France. There was Kehl opposite Strasbourg, and Neuf Brisach on
the other side of the Rhine to Alt Breisach. One of the scientists, Helmut
von Zborowski, invented the coleoptor, a pioneering VTOL aircraft. 16

Reading Elena Skijabina’s account of life near Koblenz in the French
Zone, you would believe all was sweetness and light. The French had not
been present at Yalta, and had made no promises to return Russian nation¬
als. A Soviet commission for repatriating Russian citizens had been set up
in a nearby castle, but Elena was spared the consequences of Operation
Keelhaul, which probably saved her life. She had spoken French from
childhood, and this evidently made her sympathetic to the officers of the
garrison. They arrived at the beginning of July 1945 and a few days later
she was helping their cook procure veal for the 14 July celebrations. The
Russians quite naturally fared better than the Germans, who were being
rounded up for heavy labour in France, but not all Germans by any means
suffered in this way, and returning soldiers were allowed to go back to their
homes. 17

When Karl-Heinz Bohrer went to school in the Black Forest, he came
face to face with life in the French Zone. At the outset the French were the
most hated of the four occupying powers. They threw their weight around,
requiring Germans to walk in the roads in the university city of Freiburg-
im-Breisgau. Karl-Heinz had heard reports of atrocities carried out by
Moroccan troops. The locals laughed at the operatic uniforms. The French
wanted to have their revenge for the German occupation, and the Germans
resented the political imposition of French ‘victory’. That changed with

272

LIFE IN THE FRENCH ZONE

time. For Karl-Heinz the next few years were marked by an awakening,
political and erotic. He read Eugen Kogon’s book Der SS-Staat which was
pretty well the first in German to examine the machinery of Hitler’s terror.
He discovered French culture, first of all in the little cinema in the tiny vil¬
lage of Bickendorf near his school; he saw La Belle et la bete, Les Enfants du
paradis, La Mart de Danton and Sous les toits de Paris. Among his neighbours,
France — Paris in particular — became chic. The antipathy to all things
French disappeared. Boys wore Basque berets and hung French posters in
their dormitories. They longed to be accepted by the French. 18 That was
a long time in coming. Paul Falkenburger, a Frenchman who taught at
Freiburg University, recalls that it was not until 1947 that there was any
meeting between young Germans and French, and that that first occasion
took place in Titisee in the Black Forest. 19

Berets became a potent symbol for post-war German youth. Ruth
Friedrich saw them cropping up like mushrooms in Berlin: ‘Anyone who
felt they had something to say wears a black beret. There have never been
so many berets in the city. They are the Phrygian bonnets of the first
post-war weeks in Berlin.’ 20

The French acquired the Saar at the four-power conference in Paris in
April 1946. They were once again the keenest to return to the
Kleinstaaterei — the system of small, impotent states that had been Germany
before 1806 — and to this end were reluctant to join Bizonia. French atti¬
tudes to Germany changed radically after the end of the war. At first they
wanted merely to milk the country, but soon they saw the point of wooing
the defeated Germans. President de Gaulle did this as early as October 1945
when he visited the ZOF and spoke of the need to return to ordinary life,
to reconstruct the economy. The Germans and the French had to work
together ‘because we are Europeans and Westerners’. 21 Of course the
reason for this was de Gaulle’s spat with Moscow. The Soviet leaders had
gone cold on him, and he could no longer rely on the Russians to get his
own way.

De Gaulle was still insisting on a veto for the central agencies at the
Control Council. Koenig was happy to take on the role of opposing any
attempt to reunite Germany, which removed any chance of a centralised
railway system and trades union movement. Koenig came up against Clay,
who was anxious to re-establish sovereignty so that American troops could
go home. Here the French became the unconscious allies of the British,
who feared just that — an American departure. Clay was tempted to pro¬
ceed without France, which was deliberately segmenting Germany

273

ALLIED ZONES

At the New Year of 1946 de Gaulle insisted that Germany be re-created
as a confederation, not a Reich. As the barometer dropped the French
were as pitiless as ever in their demands for coal. Production in the Ruhr
had fallen to 12 per cent of the 1943 level. In June 1945 the British com¬
mander Montgomery had insisted that the coal be kept in Germany ‘to
prevent. . . unrest and disorder’. 22 At the Conference of Foreign Ministers
(CFM) in Moscow in December French demands for coal went up again.
They required annual shipments of twenty million tons from 1947. Once
again they dished the idea of central agencies by rejecting the suggestion
that there should be a central body looking after finance. Koenig was pre¬
pared to accept a German commission of experts, providing that it did not
operate west of the Rhine (which the French hoped would fall to them).
Clay could scarcely conceal his annoyance at the Control Council. 23 It was
suspected that he intentionally disrupted shipments of wheat to the ZOF. 24
Later he quite openly proposed stopping deliveries. Clay was slow to
decide that the real danger to peace came from Moscow, not Paris.

The central-agencies argument was eventually won by the French
when, as the Cold War broke out, the British for one saw the possibility of
centralised, Berlin-based bodies falling into the hands of the Soviets. The
French remained at odds with the policy of the Anglo-Americans, how¬
ever. Their view was that the German economy should serve their needs,
while the Russians wanted to hold it down; as far as London and
Washington were concerned, Germany should have been allowed to enjoy
reasonable levels of industrial activity. To this end Clay halted the disman¬
tling of industrial sites in his zone in May 1946. 25

France had a chance to show off in July and September 1946. First
came the Paris CFM and later, also in Paris, the much vaunted Peace
Conference that was no such thing. The mood among the victorious
Allies had changed once again after Churchill’s Fulton speech that March.
The former prime minister’s sabre-rattling was not popular at first: his
American audience thought he was showing himself an imperialist. It was
now the turn of Soviet foreign minister Molotov to try to seduce the
Germans. In July he issued a critique of the Western Allies, interpreting the
French idee cherie of detaching the Ruhr as ‘agrarianisation’ in the spirit of
the loopy Morgenthau Plan. Such measures would only breed a spirit of
revenge. The Allies needed to render Germany a peaceful, democratic
state. 26

In 1946 the outstanding French figure of his time, the aposde of Franco-
German reconciliation Robert Schuman, entered the lists. 27 Schuman
seemed almost fated to play his role. Fie had been born in Luxembourg in

274

LIFE IN THE FRENCH ZONE

1886, and went to school there before attending four German universities.
He became a lawyer in Metz, in German Lorraine, on the eve of the First
World War. After the war he represented a Lorraine constituency in Paris,
now that the province had returned to France. In 1946 he was made min¬
ister of finance under Bidault and, shortly after that, foreign minister. For
nine months from November 1947, he was president of the Council, or
prime minister. His tenure corresponded to the early period of the Berlin
blockade.*

At first Schuman s line echoed that of de Gaulle. He coveted the Ruhr
and opposed German unity, stressing the need for a federal German state.
Germany in a segmented state was less dangerous. Yet he was clear that
Germany needed to be brought back as an equal partner to play its role in
the concert of nations. Provided it could accept its ‘harmless’, federal
structure, Schuman was prepared to see it released from the doghouse. He
also knew that individual European nations had little chance in competi¬
tion with the great power blocs: the United States, the Soviet empire in
eastern Europe and the British Empire. They needed to federate themselves
in order to succeed. The first step towards the European Union would be
taken with the formation of the Council of Europe at Strasbourg in 1949.
It was at the then German Strasbourg University that Schuman had pre¬
sented his doctoral dissertation. 28

The Anglo-Americans were proceeding towards Bizonia: the merging
of their territories which the British believed would cut costs. The pro-
Soviet ministers in the French cabinet kept France out of the arrangement.
The Paris Peace Conference was held at the Palais du Luxembourg, but
although it was billed as an assembly on the scale of the Versailles confer¬
ence that had followed the First World War, in reality it was empowered
only to deal with peripheral issues, settling border questions in Italy and
eastern Europe.

In September 1946 it was James Byrnes’s turn to wag his finger at the
Russians in Stuttgart. Germany, according to the US secretary of state, was
an economic unit, and the aim was economic revival and democratic self-
government. American troops would stay in Germany until Germany was
secure. Byrnes’s peroration was followed up by Bevins in the House of
Commons, which alluded to the presence of PCF (Communist Party)
ministers in the French government. The Ruhr was not up for grabs, and
Britain and America were ready for Bizonia. The American economic
adviser General William Draper proposed that the French enter Trizonia as

* See below Chapter 20.

275

ALLIED ZONES

a means of goading Russia, but the French continued to hold aloof, even
imposing a customs wall around their zone in the Saar in December 1946,
much to Clay’s exasperation. 29

The French had lowered their demands for German coal. They now
pegged their needs at half a million tons a month for 1947, rising to a mil¬
lion thereafter. It was feared that the German economy might catch up
with France’s. Shipments, however, were fixed by output at the mines: at
a daily production of 280,000 tons, 21 per cent could be exported. This
would rise to 25 per cent only when production passed 370,000 tons. 30
French demands continued to irk Clay. On 6 February 1949 he wrote,
‘Sometimes I wonder who conquered Germany, who pays the bill, and
why?’ Fie had a successful meeting with Schuman the following month,
however, and expressed an interest in his project for a Western European
Union. 31

Culture

De Gaulle’s persistent noises about the Rhineland made most Germans
think he wanted to annex it to France. Fie insisted, however, that French
policy was only about security, and that the Rhineland was to be a buffer-
zone. Where French intentions were generally treated with suspicion, their
cultural policy was a startling success. This was very largely due to
Raymond Schmittlein, who was director of culture in Baden-Baden.
Schmittlein had been born in Roubaix in the north of France, but his
mother was Alsatian and he had cousins on the far side of the Rhine. Fie
was agrege in German, and had studied at the Flumboldt University in
Berlin, where he met his wife. He had taught at the University of Kaunas
and had headed the French Institute in Riga. He was a Gaullist. His solu¬
tion to denazification was to lure the people away from dodgy ideology
through culture. 32

The famous Weimar novelist Alfred Doblin reappeared in Germany in
French uniform and became a literary censor in Baden-Baden. By his
own testimony, towering piles of books were placed before him, written
either during the war or just after. Suppression had not done wonders for
German letters, he thought. With no pun intended (Gunter Grass’s first
successful novel, The Tin Drum, was not published until 1959), he wrote,
‘At first the only thing that grew on the ground was grass and weeds.’ 33 He
founded a literary journal, and formed part of the delegation that inaug¬
urated the new University of Mainz. The journey to the inauguration

276

LIFE IN THE FRENCH ZONE

ceremony was an adventure in itself. As they approached the cathedral city
they saw the wrecks of factories ‘as if brought down by an earthquake’ and
then the city centre: ‘But where was Mainz? All that one could see were
ruins, faceless people, twisted beams, empty facades: that was Mainz.’ 34 In
the old barracks that was now the university Doblin watched civilians and
military figures leafing through the translated transcripts of the speeches
that morning. There were British and American uniforms scattered along
the rows. An orchestra struck up the overture from The Magic Flute. Men
came in wearing black gowns and mortar boards. Doblin was reminded of
a high-school graduation in the United States. The president of the region
gave a speech in which he described the new university as the key to the
material and cultural revival of the region. 35

The invited guests from the Anglo-American zones aside, the French
kept themselves culturally aloof. Mainz newspapers could not be obtained
in Frankfurt and vice versa. 36 French art, literature and architecture
remained popular into the 1960s and 1970s, despite the drubbing the
Germans received during the first years of the occupation, and the French
were not embarrassed to export their talent. In Mainz the French architect
Marcel Lods, a pupil of Le Corbusier, drew up the plans to rebuild the city.
French culture remained the legacy of the occupation — the rest has been
forgotten.

277

Austria’s Zones and Sectors

The 8 May!

The day, the hour when every bell in Vienna proclaimed peace and
the end of the Second World War. I was lying on an upturned fridge,
unwashed and unshaven, covered in filth in my ‘partisan uniform’ in
a coal cellar in the Plosslgasse in the 4th Bezirk. The door to the cellar
was guarded by a Red Army soldier speaking only a smattering of pig-
German, who played ad nauseam the first bars of the Volga Boat
Song — he clearly couldn’t manage the rest.

Carl Szokoll, Die Rettung Wiens, Vienna 2001, 380

Vienna

O n 9 May 1945 Cardinal Innitzer said Mass for Karl Renners new
Soviet-backed administration. All the working bells in the city were
set to chime and celebrate the end of the war in Europe. Vienna was still
a sad, wrecked city. More than 80,000 homes had been wholly or partially
destroyed and 35,000 people had nowhere to live. For the most part there
was no gas, electricity or telephone. Large tracts of the 1st Bezirk had been
turned to rubble in the last months of the war and in the wild looting that
followed liberation. The commercial Karntnerstrasse was among the worst
hit. The French commander, Lieutenant-General Emile-Marie Bethouart,
described it as a heap of ruins. At one end the gutted opera house, at the
other the roofless cathedral, the Steffi. 1

Unlike Berlin, Vienna was still recognisable under the dust and rubble.
The American novelist John Dos Passos came at the end of 1945 and
admitted that the city still ‘wears the airs and graces of a metropolis . . .
Vienna is an old musical comedy queen dying in a poorhouse, who can still
shape her cracked lips into a confident smile of a woman whom men have
loved, when the doctor makes his rounds of the ward.’ 2

278

Austria’s zones and sectors

The Russians were still the real power in the city, and Austrians were
required to fetch and carry. When Graf Alfred Sturgkh turned up three-
quarters of an hour late for a meeting at the Chamber of Commerce it was
because the count had had to unload a delivery of potatoes from a lorry. 3
Anything might happen: in Hietzing people were being thrown out of
their houses for the benefit of the Russian garrison. The Margarethas had
to move up to the attic to make room for a general. For the time being
they had a courteous colonel lodging with them who brought them flow¬
ers and wine and went to the ballet. 4 The former Nazis were proscribed.
Most Pgs tried to conceal their pasts, some tried to hide themselves, others
committed suicide — such as Josef Schoner’s friend the dermatologist
Professor Scherber and his wife, who came from Komotau in German
Bohemia. Now that German-speakers were being slaughtered with
impunity, there was no point in going home. 5

The cautious Eugen Margaretha thought it wrong to be too black and
white about the Nazis. ‘However just the measure might be, it is possibly
going to come down hard on some individual cases who are decent fellows
in themselves . . . men who are hard-working in their domain and indis¬
pensable people will be excluded from the economy.’ There was a little
mutual backscratching to be done. Margarethas greengrocer in the
Naschmarkt wanted him to sign an affidavit to say that he had been a good
man — despite membership of the Party. Margaretha received a lettuce for
his pains. 6 He had little sympathy for most of the Austrian Nazis. Now they
were saying that they had been forced to join the Party, and that they had
been compelled to ‘torture hundreds of thousands of people to death, to
gas them or kill them in some other way! I am not a vengeful sort, but I
have no patience when I see and hear these now innocent lambs.’ 7

There was another side to the coin. As the Germans were also well
aware, the concentration camps had housed not just political prisoners
and innocent Jews or gypsies; they had also been used for hardened crim¬
inals. Now all former KZlers were allowed to jump the queue for ration
cards, flats and other benefits. Eighteen thousand homes in Vienna were
made available to them, as well as to the bombed-out and the homeless.
Margarethas office had had a visit from a couple of former inmates ‘who
have now mastered the situation and are demanding jobs, accommodation,
clothing etc’. They were ‘common criminals. Now you can’t tell the dif¬
ference between this sort and the poor devils.’ 8

Subsistence levels had dwindled to next to nothing. There were
1,500,000 people in the city and around forty lorries available to bring in
supplies. Rationing was reintroduced on 6 May, and on 1 June the daily

279

ALLIED ZONES

intake was fixed by the Russian authorities. The citizens were to have
250—300 grams of bread a day, with 50 grams of fat and 20 grams of sugar.
When the refugees came flooding in across the Czech border the situation
worsened. Starving German Bohemians and Moravians were not averse to
robbing houses in the north-eastern Weinviertel in the hope of finding
food. The Viennese looked to the Western Allies for succour. 9

They were making slow progress. On 11 May the Americans were
reported in Amstetten, the Russians had gone into Graz. Later the
Americans took Klagenfurt in Carinthia. The British were having to con¬
tend with unforeseen changes to their Austrian policy, because in their
absence Tito’s partisans had moved into Carinthia and made it known that
they intended to keep for Yugoslavia part of the territory earmarked for the
British Zone. In Vienna on 16 May the mood was very low, because of the
delay in seeing Western troops in the city. 10 After a month of looting and
rape the Western Allies were needed to raise the tone of the occupation.
The Viennese appreciated there might be disadvantages too: the Westerners
would seek to control the administration down to the smallest detail,
whereas the Russians had an ‘Asiatic liberality’ coupled with a sloppiness
that allowed the inhabitants of their zone to get on with what they
wanted. 11 This was evidendy the version edited for Austria. The Soviets did
not behave like this in Germany. The Austrians were not the enemy, after
all. The Russians were very little interested in the Austrian Pgs, for exam¬
ple. The Western Allies might just have dug a little deeper. Some people
maintain that the Soviets were more interested in wiping out the opposition,
because they impeded the smooth exercise of power in the zone. 12

As it was, a small advance party from the Western Allies did arrive on 3
June, just 186 of them in 140 cars. Field Marshal Alexander declined to go,
and sent Major-General Winterton instead. General Flory represented the
Americans and General Cherriere the French. They were spotted in the
Lainzer Strasse and covered with flowers. The Viennese received them with
jubilation. The Westerners took no notice of this effusion: the no-frat
rule was still in force. The story was now ebbing out: the Allies were
going to treat the Austrians ‘differently’, but not necessarily better. The
Russians had allotted eleven Hietzing villas for the use of the Western
Allies. The purpose of their visit was to work out the partition of the coun¬
try, but although the Russians plied them with caviar, they proved
truculent when it came to showing them airfields.* The Westerners were

* The Americans were eventually allotted Tulin, the French Gotzendorf and the British the
partial use of Schwechat — now the main airport for the city. Eventually the British and the
French shared Schwechat.

280

Austria’s zones and sectors

required to take their leave on the ioth, but did not depart until the 13th.
The Russians were keen to reach an agreement — they were fed up with
paying for the provision of the Austrian capital. 13

New problems were emerging for Austria: huge numbers of people
were converging on the impoverished country. Around 100,000 Germans
from Prague, Brno and southern Moravia were streaming across the fron¬
tier with their Czech tormenters in hot pursuit. The subject was on
everyone’s lips that June. Austria had no border guards to turn them back;
the Russians did nothing, and they had no food to feed them with. In
Krems in Lower Austria the refugees were deeply resented. 14

Renner was in favour of letting them in, even if only 20 per cent of
them had any claim to Austrian citizenship.* Renner was from Moravia
himself, from just outside Nikolsburg, 1 where many of the local Germans
had been massacred. 15 The rest of them, said Schoner, were Reich
Germans, or German-speaking Czechs. The communist minister of the
interior, Honner, was keen to throw them out, and — when they woke up
to the fact that they had another 300,000 mouths to feed — the Russians
were too. The question was where could they send them? The Czechs
maintained they were leaving their country of their own free will — like
those who were quitting Poland. 16

As regards the German-speaking Czechs, the attitude was less sauve qui
peut than on a pti nous sauver! (and to hell with the rest of them). The future
president of the National Bank, Margaretha, had a full report on the expul¬
sions from a Dr Dyszkant who had visited Brno and Prague. Germans, ‘but
Austrians as well, are being chased away and on the road from Brno to
Vienna you see endless columns of refugees in a most miserable state who
pluck the fruit from the cherry trees as their only form of nourishment. In
Prague you hear not one word of German spoken any more.’ 17

In exchange for the ‘ethnic Austrians’ Austrians wanted to see the backs
of any German nationals left in their country. In 1945 there were 346,000
or them. Ten years later that number had dwindled to 18,600. They were
‘treated with no consideration, dispossessed, properly seen to and
expelled’. 18 The new foreign minister, Dr Karl Gruber, was one of their
most outspoken critics. They had once again asserted their superiority
over the ‘sloppy’ Austrians. Gruber wanted revenge: ‘only with difficulty
and full of fury did the Austrians put up with the long years of Prussian
condescension and meddle-o-mania’. Gruber added that he thought that

*They were all citizens of Austria-Hungary before 1918.
f Scharf was also from Nikolsburg.

281

ALLIED ZONES

many of the Germans had come to Austria to escape from the conse¬
quences of their actions at home. There was possibly some truth in the
assertion, but it sounded like a dangerously familiar game of putting the
Allies off the scent. 19

Far from showing sympathy for their ethnic German brothers and sisters
in Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Yugoslavia, the Austrians now began to
flex their muscles a bit to demand territory for their martyred state. These
demands did not come from the federal government, but they had the
backing of Gruber, especially in his capacity as governor of the Tyrol. If the
Poles could have some more land, why not the Austrians? The newly
recreated Burgenland still hankered after the city of Odenburg (Sopron in
Hungarian), which had been awarded to Hungary at Saint-Germain and
had failed to come back with the rest of Burgenland because of a ‘falsified
plebiscite’; 20 from Josef Rehrl, the governor of Salzburg, came a call to
detach Berchtesgaden and the surrounding region from Bavaria - despite
its ominous past - as well as the Rupertiwinkel, which had been estranged
from the archbishopric of Salzburg in 1809.

When they were not planning a merger with Switzerland (there was
some talk of this in the Tyrol too), the Vorarlberger eyed the Kleine
Walsertal, where the pastures made some of the best Bergkase; the
Tyroleans wanted their brothers and sisters to the south; Upper and Lower
Austria looked enviously towards southern Moravia and Bohemia, despite
the streams of wretched German-speaking refugees and the certain knowl¬
edge that the Czechs were purging the region of Teutons; finally there
were even discussions in Styria and Carinthia about revising the borders,
and not just to fend off the Yugoslavs, who were keen to wrest away areas
of Austria where there were populations of Slovenians. The Carinthians
even mentioned the Kanaltal and Gottschee,* where there were clusters of
Germans who had come adrift from the fatherland and who felt insecure
in the post-war world. 31 Renner gave a nod to the Foreign Office to pour
a little cold water on these territorial claims; Gruber, however, even spoke
of ‘reparations’. 22 It is possibly in response that the story is told of the
Germans offering to send back the bones of Adolf Hitler.

Margaretha, who failed to note Hitler’s death in his journal, referred to
this overweening self-interest on the part of the Viennese in his entry for
14 August:

The Viennese are not interested in the atom bomb, nor the participation of

* The Kanaltal along the Fella river, around the now Italian town of Tarvisio; for Gottschee
see p. 503.

282

Austria’s zones and sectors

the Russians in the war [in Asia] . . . nor Japanese surrender; all they are
interested in are the questions: when will the unbearable demarcation lines
within Austria be wound up? When will we be rid of the Russians? When
will the new tram lines be finally ready? When are we going to get meat,
when are we finally going to have something to smoke? When will we have
coal and wood for heating, when gas? When will there be glass for the
window panes? The Viennese are not in the slightest bit interested in elec¬
tions . . , 23

In London Austria’s territorial ambitions were given short shrift. The
European Advisory Commission limited itself to the job of dividing Austria
up into four zones of occupation. Access to Vienna from the Western
zones, however, was held up until June. In the meantime exiled political
groups continued to put pressure on the Allies, who in turn paid them
scant attention. After Otto von Habsburg returned to Europe in 1944,
London was the centre of legitimist agitation. He had not been a sparkling
success. His agitation in America had upset the governments in exile and
the State Department had had to issue a statement in April 1943 that it had
no desire to reinstate the Habsburgs. 24 A leading monarchist was the Jewish
nobleman Baron Leopold Popper von Podhragy. In June Podhragy wrote
a pamphlet attacking Renner under the title An Experiment in Socialism
using his pseudonym ‘Florian George’. 25

Renner had laid himself open: he was Austria’s ‘vicar of Bray’, a com¬
munist toady who had begun life as a pan-German, a disciple of the same
antisemite Schonerer who had exercised a seminal influence on the young
Adolf Hitler. In 1918, when Austria had been divested of its subject states,
he wanted it hitched to the German Reich. In this he felt much as the rest
of his people felt at the time. He had also been implicated in the socialist
uprisings of 1919, 1927 and 1934. Podhragy was pro-Dollfuss, the Austrian
chancellor gunned down by the Nazis who himself brutally put down the
socialist revolt. Dollfuss had also scrapped democracy in Austria, establish¬
ing the Corporate State. In Dollfuss s Austria the press was censored and
arrest arbitrary. 26 Podhragy might have had reason to suspect that both
Dollfuss and his successor Schuschnigg had monarchist leanings. In 1938
Renner had publicly supported the Anschluss with Germany, where other
‘German Austrians’ had been more reticent about the Nazis.

Renner had been quite open in giving his reasons for supporting the
Anschluss and had urged Austrians to do the same. In an article published
in London in May 1938 he had accused Dollfuss of‘monarchism and medi¬
aeval clericalism’. ‘German-Austria’, a word of his own coinage, was and
remained in his view a component part of the German Republic. 27 After

283

ALLIED ZONES

April 1945 he did not go back on this and he was as keen as ever to remove
the trappings of the Corporate State. He had also become a Russian puppet.
American intelligence reported that it was almost impossible to get any¬
where near him, as he was always flanked by Russian minders. 28

Seven years of German rule had wrought many changes. Whereas in
1938 most Austrians would have supported some sort of bond with
Germany — not necessarily with the Nazis — in 1945 no one would have
openly admitted a pan-German bias. German behaviour in Austria imme¬
diately following the Anschluss — the deporting of large numbers of
ministers and government officials to Dachau; the brutal revenge against
anyone who had been instrumental in repressing the Nazis during the
time they were illegal; the confiscation of over half of the Austrian indus¬
trial base; 29 * the deportation of the Jews (although many Austrians were not
just indifferent here, they actively joined in); the privations of war; the
deaths of near ones and dear ones; and finally the capital crime, defeat -
had all served to sever any bonds of affection that might have united the
peoples on either side of the Inn. If there were pro-Gennan Austrians after
1945, they kept mum or sought some other way out.

The Soviet authorities were playing their usual game and delaying the
entry of the Western Allies. As the American commander General Mark
Clark put it in the hard-hitting Cold War idiom of 1950: ‘They were busy
looting Austria at the time, and didn’t want to be bothered.’ 30 On 4 July
1945 the Allies came together again to decide the form of the Control
Council. The Western missions were headed by the DMGs: General
Winterton for Britain, General Gruenther for the US, and General P. R. P.
Cherriere for France. The Russian commander was allegedly ill,"*" and the
Soviet Union was represented by Colonel General A. S. Zheltov, a polit¬
ical commissar who was high up in the NKVD and who was famed for his
entirely negative attitude. 31 Tolbukhin was actually in the doghouse and
was replaced by Koniev on the 7 July. Stalin was cross because he had
allowed the Red Army to give a negative image of the Soviet Union. 32
Fischer was angling for a German-style SED: a united front of communists
and socialists. He had been inspired by the communal elections in France,
which had returned the communists as the largest party in the country.
Scharf feared that if the Western Allies did not arrive soon there would be
a communist putsch. 33

The zones were not finalised until 9 July. The Soviet Union clung to its

* A lot of this would have been formerly Jewish owned,
f Clark says this was Koniev, but Koniev had yet to be appointed.

284

Austria’s zones and sectors

bastions in the east: Burgenland - abolished by the Nazis and recreated for
the Russians — Lower Austria and Upper Austria north of the Danube. The
United States faced them across the Danube in Upper Austria, as well as
taking on the Salzkammergut. Britain was anchored in the south, with
Carinthia, Styria and the eastern Tyrol. France was left with the rest of the
Tyrol and the Vorarlberg. As in Germany, this meant some adjustment of
the lines. The Russians, for example, had occupied the eastern half of
Styria. Margaretha would have expressed the views of most Viennese in
voicing his unhappiness at the settlement. The Russian slice of the cake
‘meant that the land around Vienna will be further leeched by the
Russians, and that we will receive no potatoes, no fruit, no milk, no
eggs . . ,’ 34

Under the Allied agreement, the city was divided into four sectors like
Berlin. The difference was that the ist Bezirk, which occupied the
medieval city bordered by the famous Ringstrasse, was managed by all four
powers, a different victor taking on the role every month. Command was
represented by four generals who reigned supreme in their sectors, and
who administered the ist Bezirk communally. They were the military
commissars, whose presidency was also subject to monthly change. The ist
Bezirk was patrolled by the famous ‘four in a jeep’: a military policeman
from each of the occupying powers.

Beyond the ist Bezirk, the Allies all had their sectors, each of which
included a slice of the inner city within the Giirtel as well as some more
suburban areas. The Russians had the old Jewish quarter in the second, and
Floridsdorf bordering the Danube, helping them to maintain their control
of the waterway, Wieden and Favoriten; the Americans received Neubau,
Alsergrund, the Josefstadt, Hernals, Wahring and Dobling with its vine¬
yards; the French had Mariahilf with its famous shopping street, Penzing,
Fiinfhaus and Ottakring. Their offices were in the old Military Academy.
General Bethouart was billeted in the villa of Frau Petznek in Hiitteldorf.
She was the only child of Crown Prince Rudolf who, after her marriage to
a Prince Windischgraetz, had wedded a socialist politician. The Russians
had been in the villa before him. They had removed much of the furniture
and ripped the crowns off the books in the library. The British controlled
Landstrasse, with its important communications to their airport at
Schwechat, Margarethen, Simmering and Hietzing.

The Allies were the custodians of Austrian sovereignty. According to the
London Agreement, drawn up by the European Advisory Commission in
January 1944, they would continue to exercise executive power until
independence was restored by a state treaty. The Austrian government had

285

ALLIED ZONES

to submit proposals to the four powers, whose decisions had to be unani¬
mous. The Soviet Union fought off the notion of granting Austria its
sovereignty for ten years, although it was first suggested by US Secretary of
State Byrnes in February 1946, and the project had full British backing.
The Russians’ pretext for their veto was that the country had been insuf¬
ficiently purged of its Nazis, although they were notoriously lazy about
pursuing culprits. 35

Renner had never been trusted by the Western powers. His chief rival
was the Dachauer Leopold Figl, who was the first to advocate a return to
the 1929 Federal Constitution. Figl, patronisingly described by Mark
Clark as ‘a courageous and competent little fellow’, 36 was the first great
political figure of the Austrian Second Republic. A vigneron from Lower
Austria, he had headed the Bauernbund or Peasants’ Union before 1938.
He had received a rough but effective political education in Dachau,
spending a total of sixty-two months in Nazi captivity along with a
number of other important political figures in post-war Austria. His hard
peasant head proved an asset when it came to dealing with Koniev, and he
was often seen reeling out of the Hotel Imperial (requisitioned by the
Russian commandant), his belly full of vodka, after some tough trading.
Another Septembriste was Dr Karl Gruber, who was only de facto foreign
minister, because Austria officially had no right to conduct its own foreign
affairs.

Figl was freed on 6 April 1945. On the 17th he went to the Imperial
to make his peace with the conquerors. 37 He emerged as the
Landeshauptmann, or governor, of Lower Austria. The Russians had no
fondness for Figl, and his conservative OVP, 3S but they were hedging their
bets, waiting to see if Austria would fall into the communist bloc, and in
the meantime they were backing a multi-party system. Just to make sure
the Austrians did not have it too easy, however, they also gave credence to
Yugoslav demands for reparations and border changes.

Once the Americans had their feet under the desk in Vienna they too
took stock of the political situation. Renner had moved out of his old
home and into a former SS radio station in the Himmelstrasse in Grinzing.
The Americans knew about his pan-German past and his support for the
Anschluss. His persistent attacks on Dollfuss had angered Figl, who insisted
that the murdered chancellor had been a democrat at heart. 39 The situation
was not an obvious one: socialists like Renner had managed to stay out of
concentration camps during the Nazi years, while the leaders of the
Corporate State — which might have been sympathetic to Hitler had it
played its cards right - had spent long, sometimes fatal, spells in Dachau

286

Austria’s zones and sectors

and Mauthausen. It was not until 6 September that the OSS recommended
that the American government recognise Renner’s regime.

The British were also playing hard to get. On 26 September they told
the Americans they were unwilling to recognise Renner because he was
too much under the thumb of the communists. 40 The British thought the
communists wanted to extend their influence over the whole of Austria.
The dashing British political adviser Jack Nicholls (who was known to
smuggle women at risk from the Russians out in the boot of his car) had
also expressed his doubts about Renner’s self-important ways. With time
the British fell in behind Clark, whose view it was that Renner had to be
given time to clean out his stables and make the government more repre¬
sentative. 41

The British remained obdurate about their entry into Vienna, the
Russians having stolen a march on them once more. They had left the issue
to Churchill to sort out at Potsdam, which he had failed to do. Their
refusal to advance to their sector was ‘almost destructive’. 42 It resulted in
Stalin agreeing to feed the Viennese population for the time being, but it
was hardly a humanitarian solution, unless the Russians could be relied
upon to do it properly. As it was, poor Austria was feeding a large number
of strangers. There were around a million refugees within its pre-1938
borders and around 350,000 troops. The bulk of these were Russian, but
there were also 50,000 Americans, 65,000 British and 40,000 French. That
figure had been reduced to some 65,000 soldiers all told by the end of 1946.

The meeting of the victors at Potsdam in the summer of 1945 failed to
rule on the Austrian question. One thing was agreed, however — that in the
light of Austria’s ‘victim’ status, there were to be no reparations paid. The
French defied this by shipping home some valuable portions of Austrian
industry they found in their zone, but the Russians had a better way of
dealing with it. The day the conference opened, the Daily Telegraph
reported the hypocrisy behind Soviet behaviour. The Russians had already
carried away every machine, all cars and buses and cattle from the city:
‘Austria is free but looted of all that can sustain or rebuild life.’ For six
weeks there had been no food delivered to the city, and half the newborn
children had died. The corpses of the city’s defenders still lay under the
ruins of the buildings they had fought over. 43 *

The Allies had appointed their own high commissioners to govern their
zones. Under these men there were a number of committees dealing with

* There were an estimated 9,000 unburied bodies in the city (Adolf Scharf, Osterreichs
Wiederaufrichtung im Jahr 1945, Vienna i960, 24).

287

ALLIED ZONES

particular problems such as denazification, the restitution of sequestered
property, DPs, POWs, military issues and disarmament. Once the Austrian
government was recognised after the 1945 elections, the Allied high com¬
missioners were invested with the rank of ministers in their respective
governments. In fact, despite the reports in the British press, there was
some small degree of co-operation between the Western and Eastern Allies
at the beginning, and some of the ‘German assets’ were run well, while
others were handed back to their original owners. The Allies jointly
administered the country’s oil industry at first, and Marshal Tolbukhin was
in favour of the removal only of Austrian heavy industry. 44

Even the staunchly communist parts of the city in Heiligenstadt had had
enough of their Soviet liberators by the summer. For their own part, the
Red Army had found it unbelievable that the Austrian communists had
managed to live in such Gemutlichkeit in their fortress-like blocks of flats.
There were homely lace curtains and soft sofas more readily associated with
the bourgeoisie. Once the scales had fallen from their eyes the usual scenes
of rape and rapine had followed. 45 On 22 July 1945, thirty American cars
were spotted in Maner. 46 Three days later a British quartermaster came to
see Eugen Margaretha. He asked the economist politely if he had any room
to spare. The Margarethas volunteered two rooms on the parterre. It turned
out that the English were expected the next day. That proved to be yet
another optimistic rumour. They had still not pitched up on 5 August.
Finally on the 12th a captain in the Coldstream Guards arrived, ‘a nice, well-
turned-out person’, who took pity on them and gave them sandwiches and
beer. At the end of the month electricity was restored and the Margarethas’
fridge started to work again, prompting much jubilation in the house. 47

The world was at peace from the 15th. On the 19th the bedraggled
former capital of the great Habsburg Empire received a new monument. A
soaring column was set up on the Schwarzenberg Platz in the centre of the
city, surmounted by a figure of a Red Army soldier in a gilded helmet. The
coy Margaretha, who could not bring himself to talk about what the
Russians had been doing since their arrival that spring, said it had already
been dubbed ‘The Monument to the Unknown Looter’. Most of his com¬
patriots knew it as the ‘Unknown Father’ or, more coarsely, the ‘Unknown
Rapist’. The Russians erected their monument just six days before the
other Allied commanders moved into their digs. 48

Koniev had asked the Allies to come to Vienna on 23 August to admire
the ‘Unknown Father’, but he was going to return Clark’s hospitality first*

* See below p. 309.

288

Austria’s zones and sectors

and asked him to visit him in his HQ in Baden, the old summer capital. In
1945 it became Soviet army HQ and Russian officers and men moved into
holiday residences rendered infamous by the stories of Arthur Schnitzler.
The Russians had taken over most of the little spa and fenced off their
quarters with barbed wire. Clark was asked to review the troops, then was
taken back to headquarters and a bottle of vodka. It was the early after¬
noon. The Russians were ‘obviously prepared for an afternoon of drinking.
My party was plied with vodka and there was more liquor on the table
when we went to Koniev s for dinner about 5 o’clock.’ Clark came to the
conclusion the Russians wanted to get them ‘plastered’.

Not unnaturally, Clark was put out that Koniev was matching his shots
of vodka with nips of white wine. He complained, telling his Russian
opposite number that he wanted to drink the same juice as he was having:
‘you see, I’ve got just one stomach to give for my country’. At ten they fin¬
ished dinner and went to Baden Opera House to see a performance of
Russian dancing. Clark had problems staying awake. The dancing was fol¬
lowed by a propaganda film. Then Zheltov insisted they have another
meal before they went to bed. Clark went to his cot at four or five. Zheltov
said he’d be back at eight so that they could go for a swim. Clark had his
black batman wake him at 7.30 a.m. When he set eyes on his commander,
he asked, ‘Boss, did you drink some of that kerosene too?’ 49

Clark had no personal objection to Koniev, and they got on quite well
at first. The froideur of the Cold War only set in the following year, but in
his autobiography Clark gives the impression it was there from the start.
The American general cites an example of their mutual understanding
when he told the Russian his opinion of Fischer: ‘I don’t like him because
he is a communist.’ Koniev was completely unabashed. He apparently
replied, ‘That’s fine. I don’t like him because he’s an Austrian communist.’ 50

The American intelligence officer Martin Herz, who interviewed
Fischer in August, understood him better. Fischer was a pragmatic com¬
munist. Unlike Ulbricht in Berlin, he admitted that the Russians had
raped women during the occupation and that the emergency police they
appointed contained ‘many of the lowest, criminal elements of the popu¬
lation’. They had been partly responsible for the looting. He was not in
favour of the proscription of half a million Austrian Nazis. The number
was just too large and doubtless included a great many hangers-on and
nominal Party members: ‘To outlaw them and make pariahs out of them
would not only be unwise, but also unjust.’ Fischer admitted candidly that
National Socialism was ‘a terror machine that worked with deadly preci¬
sion and exacted nominal acceptance from people who conformed only in

289

ALLIED ZONES

order to be able to live’. The Nazi rank and file should be allowed to
redeem themselves. 51

Clark had a little present for the Viennese before he went back to his
hunting lodge in Hinterstoder. In a mine in the Salzkammergut the
Americans had discovered the crown and regalia of the Emperor
Charlemagne. Now they wanted to restore it to its rightful place.
Unfortunately that meant the Hofburg, the imperial palace in the centre of
Vienna, which was occupied by the Russians. Renner was very much
opposed to the Americans letting it go anywhere near the Russians, so they
kept it in the vaults of the bank building that served as their HQ. 52 The
Americans had armed it as if it were the Pentagon itself. 53

It was Koniev who put an end to the British intransigence. He
announced on 27 August that he would withdraw his command over the
Western sectors of Vienna as of 1 September and that these areas would
then be ‘without masters’. The ploy worked, and the Americans, British
and French took up their positions on the first of the month. 54 They
could now look closely at Vienna, which had been the Russians’ exclusive
preserve since early April. Herz noted that 200,000 Viennese were eating
at the soup kitchens set up by the Russians.* It was hard not to give the
Austrian communists some credit. They were not tainted by their Austrian
past, only by their period in Moscow and the uncertainty of their instruc¬
tions. The socialists were compromised by their support for amalgamation
with Germany; the conservatives because they had been part and parcel
of the anti-democratic Corporate State. The communists had their
‘Immediate Programme’ which called for a purge of the Nazis, three-
party commissions to weed out fascists in the administration, administrative
reform, nationalisation of industry and a democratic foreign policy. It was
not meant to be a revolutionary programme. 55

The first meeting of the high commissioners took place under Koniev s
roof at the Imperial on 11 September. Clark thought it a shambles. It was
Bethouart’s first chance to meet the charismatic American general, who he
decided resembled a Sioux Indian. The agenda was based on the four-
power arrangement decided in London before the end of the war. The
Russians knew exactly what they wanted: mastery of the Danube, the big
oilfields at Zistersdorf in the eastern Weinviertel, and the Austrian ‘bread¬
basket’ in Burgenland.They already had most of the infrastructure — control
of the railway lines, the roads, the airfields and the telephone lines. All

* These establishments lived on to the 1960s, possibly later, providing the Viennese with
wholesome food at subsidised prices.

290

Austria’s zones and sectors

international calls passed through Vienna, giving the Russians the chance
to monitor and control them. Similarly, the RAVAG, or Austrian radio
network, was based in the Soviet Zone. The Soviet forces thus still over¬
saw important parts of the Austrian economic infrastructure, not just in the
east of the country, but nationwide. 56

From 20 October 1945, the Western Allies thought it prudent to shift
the meetings around the corner to the Chamber of Industry on the
Schwarzenbergplatz (for the time being, Josef-Stalin-Platz). That meant
throwing out the Margarethas. They found new premises and were helped
to move by black American drivers and Nazi forced labourers who were so
weak from hunger that they could hardly carry the boxes of files. The
Allied sessions took place once a month. They were stiff. For a while the
British high commissioner refused to attend because the Soviets would not
allow the West to bring in food supplies for the half-starved population.
There was a tea afterwards and attempts were made to break the ice.
Koniev talked to Bethouart about Balzac, which he had read in Russian. 57

Possibly his interest in French literature led him to invite Generals
Bethouart and Cherriere, together with the civil administrator Alain de
Monticault, to a lunch in his Baden villa. Once again the vodka flowed.
Once again Koniev had an ulterior motive - he wanted to propose an
alliance with the French that would serve both their interests on the
Council. 58 The communists were still a power to be reckoned with in
French politics, and, of all the Western Allies, the Russians had the most
empathy with the French.

All the main receptions to commemorate important Soviet feast days
were held in the Hofburg Palace. The feasts were as lavish as those held
in the Russian embassy in Berlin. There was copious vodka and caviar
and the Russians looked far more splendid in their Red Army dress suits
than the Western Allies in their khaki. 59 A certain style and an ability to
entertain on an imperial scale may explain the gracious treatment
accorded to the former Austrian ruling house. Franz Joseph’s nephew
Hubert Salvator was told that the Russians would respect his property and
person, and he was excused from the duty of billeting officers. Bethouart
relates that the Russians even helped him put out his relics on Holy Days
of Obligation.

The British HQ was in Schonbrunn Palace, where the commander
General Sir Richard McCreery occupied the room that had served
Napoleon before him, a fact that caused the French general de Lattre de
Tassigny considerable annoyance. McCreery, who had served with the
British army in Italy, endured strained relations with Koniev from the

291

ALLIED ZONES

outset. Soon after he moved into a villa near the palace in Hietzing the
Soviets kidnapped his gardener. He was never seen again. 60

Each of the four powers was granted an hotel where they could put up
their guests. The Russians took the Grand, opposite the Hotel Imperial,
where the Russian commandant had his lodgings. It had also been Hitlers
favourite on his visits to Vienna. The portrait of the Emperor Franz Joseph
had been replaced by one of Stalin. The Americans appropriated the
smaller but grander Bristol. The French occupied the Hotel Rummer in
the Mariahilferstrasse, and only later moved into the rather more impres¬
sive Hotel de France on the Ring. The British were in Sacher’s behind the
Opera. The Western Allies all sponsored a newspaper which now joined
the largely propagandist Russian press consisting of Neues Osterreich, the
Arbeiterzeitung, the Osterreichische Zeitung and the Kleine Volksblatt. Now
the Americans launched the Wiener Kurier, the British Die Weltpresse
and the French Die Welt am Montag.

Clark gradually took on the role of baiter of the Russian bear that was
performed by Clay in Germany. He believed the Americans were ‘selling
Austria down the Danube’. 61 When the Russians staked a claim to all
shipping on the river, Clark noted that the vital river barges were in the
American Zone in Linz. Linz was on the border with the Soviet Zone, so
Clark had them taken upstream to Passau, in the American Zone in
Germany. It transpired there were Yugoslav barges among them, and the
Yugoslavs began to complain. It was only when Clark had a direct order
from the secretary of state, however, that he agreed to hand over the
Yugoslav vessels. 62

The political scene was beginning to move, and it looked hopeful for
Austria. On n September, the Allied Council gave permission for the re¬
establishment of the three main political parties: popular, socialist and
communist. On 24 September Renner obligingly reshuffled his cabinet to
include Figl, leading the Western Allies to recognise his government on 20
October. Renner took the hint and resigned following the elections, which
took place on 25 November, eventually becoming federal president a few
days before Christmas when the deputies unanimously voted him upstairs.
On 3 December his place was taken by Figl.

The results of the first free elections since 1930 were announced on 2
December. There had been a 95 per cent turnout. Margaretha, who was
one of the founders of the People’s Party, the OVP, called them ‘brilliant’
and with good reason: communist hopes were dashed and his party headed
the list with just over 1,600,000 votes, representing nearly half the elec¬
torate. The SPO, the Socialist Party, won 1,434,898 votes. The

292

Austria’s zones and sectors

communists, the KPO, limped home a long way behind with 174,255 or
5.5 per cent. Even in ‘Red Vienna’ they had come third with just six seats
in the regional assembly The SPO did best, with fifty-eight; the OVP won
thirty-six. The communists achieved just four seats in the Federal
Parliament. Women, it seemed, had been their undoing.

Women were now 64 per cent of the electorate, and they had suffered
unduly at the hands of the Red Army. The OVP campaigned with posters
that also showed the Russians in their worst light: ‘Ur-Wiener und Wiener
ohne Uhr, wahlt OVP!’* Another ruse was to put up posters telling the
Austrians, ‘For all who love the Red Army, vote KPO!’ 63 Missing from the
electorate were around a quarter of a million Austrian dead, 600,000
POWs, half a million Nazis and sundry other political undesirables. The
ex-Nazis would not have helped the left much. Their half-million votes
would probably have gone to the People’s Party. Margaretha thought the
message would cause relief at home and abroad. 64 He was right. The
Americans reported that Austria was now finally aware of the meaning of
democracy. The Figl government was recognised on 7 December 1946. 65

The Viennese were cold and hungry. The larger coffee houses had been
taken over by the Americans. Margaretha and his wife had a modest
Christmas: festive Paprikafisch came out of a tin. The British captain was
kind enough to make Eugen a present of a dozen Havana cigars, and in
turn he gave the Guards officer a little bottle of cognac. 6 ' 1 Figl, however,
began his rule on fighting form. To thunderous applause he demanded the
opening of the demarcation lines between the zones, the restoration of
Austrian unity, the return of South Tyrol and the end of the Yugoslav threat
to Carinthia. Austria had never been a second German state. 67

The communists were bitterly disappointed by the results of the elec¬
tions, although they were granted the concession of a ministerial portfolio
which went to Karl Altmann. As their Soviet-controlled newspaper, the
Osterreichische Zeitung, put it, We have lost a battle, but we are just at the
start of the battle for Austria, and that will be won.’ 68 Their failure to
endear themselves to the Austrian people may have been behind Koniev’s
departure: he was replaced by Vladimir Kurasov in the middle of 1946. Just
as in the aftermath of the Berlin elections of 1946, the Russians began to
show their teeth, creating petty difficulties for the Western Allies wherever
they could. As far as the Austrians were concerned, they had learned noth¬
ing: the OVP were closet fascists misleading the public under a halo of

*The pun just about works in English: ‘Viennese old-timers and Viennese without timers,
vote OVP!’ The Russians had stolen their watches.

293

ALLIED ZONES

martyrdom (Dachau and Mauthausen), and the SPO were tainted by their
complicity in the Anschluss. Austria quite clearly could not be trusted to
rule itself. 69

Feeding the Austrians

When Dos Passos visited Vienna at the end of 1945 he was able to have a
quick look round courtesy of American army public relations. He attended
Mass in the Hofburg Chapel and noted the American, British and French
‘gold braid’ listening to Schubert. The famous cafes, uncleaned and
unheated, served cups of ‘mouldy-tasting dark gruel called coffee’. The
waiters ‘kept up a pathetic mummery of service’ providing the usual glass
of water, but not the cream, although they still had the jugs. The writer
plucked up the courage to ask a waiter what was in the coffee. ‘That’s our
secret,’ he was told. He also wanted to know what the Viennese ate. ‘Bread
and dried peas’ was the answer. 70

The winter had set in, provisions were at an all-time low, and there was
no fuel to heat houses and flats. The Allies gave permission for the felling
of large numbers of trees. Feeding Vienna remained a Western grievance.
The Soviets had made off with the arable land and the roads into the cap¬
ital. Their zone had produced 65 per cent of Vienna’s food before the war.
Clark said the Americans intended to give the Austrians 1,550 calories (he
said the average American had 3,000), but he admitted that the British had
problems matching that figure. 71 As it was, the diet varied considerably
across Austria. In Vienna in May citizens received a piffling 833 calories,
which they presumably supplemented with fresh fruit and vegetables. In
the American Zone it was not much more, and the French complained
they had no means of feeding the Vorarlberger or the Tyroleans.

Desperation led the Austrian government to moderate the outward
flow of Germans and grant citizenship to one, the Nobel Prize-winning
chemist Friedrich Bergius, who had been trying to extract sugar from tree
bark. Bergius was also promising to make meat from wood, a project that
has now been dismissed as the purest alchemy. Bergius’s citizenship
becomes all the more scandalous given that he was fully in collaboration
with IG Farben during the war, and working for a Nazi victory. He fled to
Buenos Aires and died there in 1949. 72

In order to receive foreign aid, Austria had to prove itself a proper
enemy of Hitler. At first it was the Russians who made trouble, charging
that the Austrians had not actively sought freedom from Hitler. After the

294

Austria’s zones and sectors

war, it was Yugoslavia that vetoed Austria receiving aid from UNRRA
(the UN Relief and Rehabilitation Administration). The aid was only
forthcoming from March 1946. The previous December the British
Foreign Office had been preparing a new four-power agreement for the
administration of Austria that would result in granting the Austrians a
degree of self-government, but holding them in check through vetoes.
The Allies — particularly the British and the French — wanted to scale
down their operations in Austria, for the simple reason that they were
expensive.

The agreement was long in the making. At first the British did not tell
the other three of the draft; then the Americans opposed it. When it was
finally signed on 28 June 1946 it was supposed to last for six months, but
in reality it survived until the State Treaty was promulgated on 27 July
1955. 73 The Austrian federal and state governments achieved a greater
degree of liberty and were able to use quasi-total power to run their
houses. Military government by the Allies was scrapped and replaced by
‘control missions’. That the Russians saw the opening of a new era is
clear, perhaps, from the recall of Koniev and his replacement by Kurasov.
Clark’s bugbear Zheltov, however, remained behind.

As much as possible, the Western Allies sought to administer Austria
with the help of apparent anti-Nazis. Ulrich Ilg, who had been a minister
in the inter-war First Republic, was a typical appointee, much as the
gerontocracy had returned to power in Berlin. The French set him up in
the Vorarlberg. The British also worked to redraft Austrian law. An import¬
ant British contribution to the re-establishment of a non-Nazi Austria was
BALU — the British Austrian Legal Unit. The body had been formed in
1943 by pulling a number of Austrian lawyers out of the British army and
putting them to work in the War Office. In 1945 they were packed off to
Vienna where they formed part of the legal department of the Control
Commission under the British-born (but of German Jewish origin) lawyer
Claud Schuster. Schuster was assisted by George Bryant, ne Breuer. BALU
itself was run by the Viennese Lieutenant-Colonel Wolf Lasky, who had
worked in the town hall until 1938. He was now claiming royalties for legal
textbooks sold during the Nazi interregnum. The Austrians took fright and
appointed him to the bench, so that he now enjoyed the curious position
of being a judge in both Austria and Britain. He never practised in Austria
and had no desire to settle there once his work was done. He later worked
as a legal adviser to the British in Germany. 74 The British legal division
generally advised acceptance of the laws voted by the Austrian parlia¬
ment. 75

295

ALLIED ZONES

In March 1947 a poll taken among the Austrians indicated the popular¬
ity of the Allies - the Soviets, it seems, were not mentioned. The British
were well liked, but the French were no more than ‘perfumed Russians’.
Mark Clark was singled out for veneration for his tough stand against the
Soviets, Figl going so far as to call him ‘a legendary national hero’. Dos
Passos reported that he would wander around the streets of Vienna accom¬
panied only by an interpreter at a time when the city at night was ‘as in
mediaeval days’ - you went abroad at your own risk. 76 The violence was
normally down to the Russians or gangs of DPs. The Austrians voiced
their opinions of the various DPs whose camps were scattered over their
land: the Jews were liked least, followed by the Poles, Yugoslavs and
Russians. Quite a few of these had become lawless bandits, seeking revenge
for the indignities of the lives they had led as KZler or forced labourers.
The best loved now were ethnic Germans from Czechoslovakia, Hungary
and the Balkans. 77

With little food or fuel, Austria had around 600,000 extra mouths
to feed. There were about 170,000 ‘Danube Swabians’, 151,000
Sudetenlander and 15,000 Hungarian Germans, as well as 15,000 Germans
from the Siebenbiirgen and the Banat and 170,000 Jews. It was only after
1949 that the figures began to drop. The Americans put the DPs into the
care of Austrians, but the British thought they were better off under their
own authority. The Allies used the RAD camps that the Nazis had built for
their forced and volunteer labour force. 78

A constant stream of German Bohemians and Moravians gushed into
Austria. The Russians had a camp for them in Melk on the Danube, but it
was grossly overstretched and they ended up becoming a burden to all the
Allied zones. The response was to demand the expulsion of ‘Reich’
Germans. Gruber was particularly vociferous here. By a highly specious
argument ‘German’ was made to mean ‘Nazi’. The expulsion of the
Germans from the Austrian body would purge it of its former evil. On 1
November 1945 the Americans stopped their ration cards in Salzburg.
Austria made a point of celebrating its anti-German past - books were
published, for example, that showed how gallantly Austria had resisted
Prussia in the Seven Years War.

In March 1947 there were hunger marches in Vienna and Lower
Austria. The demonstrators shouted, ‘Down with Figl’s hunger regime! We
want new elections! We are hungry!’ There was a sit-in at the chancellor’s
office orchestrated by the communists. The Viennese police were too ter¬
rified of the Soviets to help. The latter even refused to allow the Allied
‘four-in-a-jeep’ patrols to interfere. The demonstrations were coupled

296

Austria’s zones and sectors

with the failure of Gruber and the Austrians to make any headway towards
independence in Moscow. 79

German Assets

The restitution of stolen property was part of the work of the Control
Council. The various Allies pursued property claims pertaining to their
own people. The French, for example, were anxious to trace the library of
the former prime minister Leon Blum, which had gone missing in Austria.
It was last seen in Carinthia, but was never found. As regards stolen Jewish
property, restitution was effected only in certain cases and in others the
awards were only partial.* 0

Restitution was complicated by several factors. One was that the Soviet
authorities were patently uninterested in the fate of the Jews, and were
determined to mop up as much property and money as they could. On 27
June 1946 the Russians seized all ‘German’ assets in their zone in contra¬
vention of the Potsdam Accord. It followed on from similar measures taken
in Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and Finland. When the West protested, the
Russians contradicted the spirit of the Moscow Declaration and said that
the Austrians had ‘fought with Germany’.

‘German’ assets accounted for around a fifth of Austrian industry: more
than 62 per cent of Germany’s capital abroad. The total sums for other
countries - Finland, Poland, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and
Yugoslavia — totalled 188 million dollars, while for Austria the figure was
a staggering 1.5 milliard. 81 Some of these assets had no connections with
the Germans whatsoever. Others were businesses legitimately built up
and developed by Germans. The Russians interpreted these matters very
freely. Of 120 industries taken over in their zone, only 47 were actually
‘German’; and of the seventy-six agricultural properties they took over,
only one had previously been in German hands. They expressed their
intention of taking over the 27,000-hectare Esterhazy estate based in
Burgenland, for example, which could hardly be described as German and
which would have fed (according to the Americans) between 80,000 and
100,000 people. They had 72 per cent of Austria’s oilwells and half the
country’s refinery capacity. 82

Soviet Russia’s determination to grab all German property included
businesses that had been filched by Germans from Austrian Jews, who had
been either driven into exile or murdered in the camps. The Russians
also swiped a lot of things the Germans had stolen from the Austrian

297

ALLIED ZONES

government and foreign nationals. The demands for compensation by cer¬
tain very rich Jewish families such as the Rothschilds were used by the
Russians as a justification for their actions, as they claimed that the
Americans would beggar the Austrians were such claims to go through.
They were much fairer in their approach in that they shared their spoils
with the people of their zone. They sequestered the oilwells, although the
equity had been mostly held by Britons and Americans before the war.
Their argument was that the foreign interests had been legitimately sold to
the Germans in 1938 and that the Anglo-Americans had no right to claim
them back. 83

They took what ships they found on the Danube. Some of the com¬
panies seized were simply stripped of anything of value that could be sent
home to Russia. Others were run at a profit. USIA (Upravleinje
Sovetskogo Imuscestva v Avstrii — Administration of Soviet Property in
Eastern Austria) was the company the Russians created to administer their
spoils. In 1949 USIA was running 250 factories with 50,000 workers and
controlled a third of industrial production within the Soviet Zone. These
factories made all Austrian locomotives and turbines, half of the nation’s
glass, fuel and pharmaceuticals and around 40 per cent of its iron. They also
had 157,000 hectares of land. The Russians continued to exploit Austria
though USIA for a decade and their profits over that period are estimated
at over a milliard dollars. The Western Allies protested, but, as no one
wanted war, their protests remained hot air.

Russia was anxious to snatch ‘German’ assets in the west too, but that
came to nothing. Not all the industry was in the east. VOEST was origin¬
ally the Hermann-Goring-Werke in Linz. After Potsdam’s ruling on former
German property the huge steelworks, one of the most modern in Europe,
fell to the Austrian state. In the light of Soviet behaviour in the east, the
Western Allies demonstratively waived their right to reparations — in the
French case, somewhat reluctantly. 84

The confiscation of the Zistersdorf oilfields gave rise to an act of resist¬
ance by Renner, who refused to sign the agreement. 85 The Russians
threatened to report him to Koniev, but he must have known he had the
backing of the Western Allies, Clark in particular, who — like Clay north
of the Inn — could see the propaganda value in exposing Soviet knavery in
this and other instances. Clark also claims to have foiled a Soviet attempt to
take over the building of the Ministry of the Interior.

298

Austria’s zones and sectors

Culture

When Carl Zuckmayer revisited Austria, he was aware of the difficulty of
distinguishing between the ‘liberated’ and the ‘occupied’ country. Despite
control by four powers, Austria had its own administration, and licensing
plays for performance was a mere formality. Despite that, the American
authorities imposed a number of their own plays on Ernst Lothar, who was
the author of the immensely successful novel Der Engel wit der Posaune
which charted the rise of Nazism in Austria. Lothar (ne Muller), who had
spent the war years across the Atlantic with his wife, the actress Adrienne
Gessner, was an excellent choice as American theatre chief in Vienna and
he was given the job of denazifying the Viennese theatre. Naturally he felt
bitter. He had told Zuckmayer that the Germans should not feel ‘pride’ for
fifteen years. Zuckmayer commented to his wife Alice, ‘How good that he
is only going to Austria, and to what is clearly a secondary position!’ 86

Zuckmayer concluded that the Austrian film industry was in a state of
‘hopeless confusion’. The Americans had seized control of the studios in
Sievering, in the suburbs of Vienna. Some of the old talent was still around,
like the singer and actor Willy Forst, who had made Wiener Madeln
(Viennese Girls) under the Nazis but never released it, because, so he said,
he had wanted to save it for a non-Nazi Austria. 87 The composer Egon
Wellesz did not return before 1948, and then only for a visit. When he was
asked why he had taken so long, he replied no one had asked him. As
Wellesz s biographer Franz Edler has said, he was ‘The pupil and confidant
of Guido Adler and would have made an exemplary successor to him at
Vienna University, where he had taught before the war, but after 1945 no
one even mentioned the idea.’ 88 Pace the new mayor of Vienna, Theodor
Korner, many people believed that their race was still a disadvantage in
Austria. Even as late as April 1948, Alfred Rosenzweig could write to Ernst
Krenek in the United States that the Jewish conductor Otto Klemperer had
told him he was unable to procure work in Vienna or Salzburg, adding that
‘Nazis like Herr Bohm and the Oberstandartenfiihrer Karajan and the
like, have got the lot. . .’ This was despite Allied meddling in cultural mat¬
ters, with the Soviets controlling the musical scene in Vienna and the
Anglo-Americans making Salzburg their flagship. 89

Richard McCreery earned a place in the hearts of the old-fashioned
Viennese by bringing back flat racing at the Freudenau track in the Prater,
even though it lay in the Russian Sector. His action allowed the elite
Jockey Club to revive its functions, although its clubhouse opposite the

299

ALLIED ZONES

Albertina had been destroyed by a direct hit in the last weeks of the war.
The British had begun by organising racing in the park at Schonbrunn,
which lay within their own sector. It was not long before they asked the
Soviets if they could use the old course in the Prater. McCreery gave the
job of organising it to his chief veterinary officer Colonel Glynn Lloyd. On
27 October 1945 six events were planned. In March the following year
funds were found to award prizes. The racing began on 14 April 1946. 90

As the Russians had had the run of Vienna for months before the
Western Allies arrived, they had had the pick of the buildings. The French
wanted a palace for their Institut Franfais. The building on offer was the
Palais Coburg, the magnificent residence of the dukes of Coburg over¬
looking the Stadtpark from its bastion on the old city wall. For some
reason the French thought it too remote and coveted the Palais Lobkowitz
instead. This had once been the French embassy, and it was across the way
from the Albertina in a much more central position. Bethouart succeeded
in wresting it from the Soviets in the course of a reception for the twenty-
eighth anniversary of the Red Army. The Russians received — and trashed —
the Palais Coburg instead.

Once the French were in possession of their cultural turf they could lay
on concerts and exhibitions. Musicians like Jacques Thibaud and Ginette
Neveu performed in its salons and lectures were delivered by the architect
Le Corbusier and the artist Jean Lunjat. The Paris opera company per¬
formed Pelleas et Melisande at the Theater an der Wien, the Staatsoper
being bombed out. On 24 March 1947 the Comedie Franfaise performed
Tartuffe and Louis Jouvets company staged L’EcoIe desfemmes. The Viennese
were also treated to French mannerists, fashions from Hermes, the Nabis,
Cubism and more, while the treasures of Vienna’s museums were exposed
at the Petit Palais in Paris.

Soviet Zone

The Soviet Union had always been in favour of occupying the more indus¬
trialised east of Austria. On 29 March 1945, as its troops began to cross the
border from Hungary, however, it considered the southern regions of
Styria and Carinthia as well. A good deal of German industry had been
transferred there during the Anglo-American aerial bombardment and
there was promise of rich plunder. Taking that portion too would weaken
the British and strengthen the Soviet influence over Yugoslavia. As it was
the Russians were able to take most of Styria before the British arrived, and

300

Austria’s zones and sectors

help themselves to what they wanted in Graz. Not only was their arrival
the signal for Tito’s partisans to enter Carinthia, the First Bulgarian Army
moved up into positions in the wine region of South Styria around the
small towns of Leibnitz, Radkersburg and Wildon. 91

With Styria temporarily in the Soviet Zone, virtually all Austria’s vine¬
yards had fallen into Russian hands. Grape farmers saved what they could
at their approach. In Gols in Burgenland the Stiegelmar family put the bot¬
tles in the well; the Osbergers in Strass in the Strassertal in Lower Austria
resorted to the popular ruse of building a false wall to save their rarest
wines. At Kloster Und near Krems, the Salomons put examples of the best
vintages into the empty tuns, hoping that the Russians would be deterred
by the hollow reverberations when they tapped the casks. 92

The Russian forces of occupation continued to be wild and uncon¬
tained. On Victory in Europe Day the Red Army celebrated by a new
burst of looting in the course of which forty-four people lost their lives.
Rape was part of daily life until 1947 and many women were riddled with
VD and had no means of curing it. Burgenland suffered more than any
other region of eastern Austria from the ravages of Russian solders. In
Mattersburg the peasants posted guards to warn women when the Russians
were about to come among them. And yet there were moments when the
people had cause to thank them. For example, it was Soviet troops who
built the pontoon bridge at Mautern on the Danube after the other cross¬
ings had been blown up, allowing communication to be restored between
Mautern and the twin towns of Krems and Stein. It is still there, and locals
call it ‘the Russian gift’.

The Allied Zones were self-contained units and it was not easy to move
from one to the other, and well nigh impossible to get from the Western
Allies to the Soviet Zone. Scharf maintained that it was easier to go from
the Marchfeld, north-east of Vienna, to Brno in Czechoslovakia than it was
to reach Salzburg in the American Zone. From Salzburg it was a simple
business travelling to Munich, but much harder to make it to Vienna. To
some extent this was intentional: Stalin desired a buffer zone to his satellite
states in Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia, and wanted to keep the
Western Allies away. 93 The Russians kept a huge army in eastern Austria,
based in their HQ in Baden. The command extended all the way to
Romania, taking in Hungary.

The camp at Mauthausen lay near Linz in the Soviet Zone. Many
French deportees had perished there and Bethouart accompanied several
pilgrimages made up of bereaved families. On 20 June 1947 he went
with Figl and the education minister Hurdes, both of whom had been

301

ALLIED ZONES

incarcerated in Mauthausen. The Russians were notoriously half-hearted in
their pursuit of Nazis, and officially left it up to the Austrian civil author¬
ities to hunt war criminals, although they were always keen to accuse the
other Allies of sheltering them. In March 1947 they claimed that the
British were protecting Nazis in Carinthia. They were still supporting
Yugoslav claims to territory in the southern province. 94 The Americans
were keeping a record of Soviet anti-Nazi activity: in Krems the Russians
rounded up 440 Nazis and put former Nazis to work clearing rubble in
Gmiind and Wiener Neustadt.* Half of Wiener Neustadt had been
destroyed and there were outbreaks of spotted typhus. 95

British Zone

The British Zone of occupation was fraught with problems at the start. The
Russians were camping in Styria, and emptying the region of any equipment
of value; Bulgarians were dug in among the South Styrian vines; and the
Yugoslavs had taken large parts of Carinthia. While the Bulgarians were rela¬
tively easy to control, the Russians and the Yugoslavs were a nightmare.
Firstly the Yugoslavs had taken the Carinthian capital, Klagenfurt, and
hoisted their flags over the city. When the local governor refused to fly a
Yugoslav flag he was replaced by a more compliant figure. Posters announced
that Carinthia was now part of Yugoslavia.^ ‘National councils’ were hastily
formed on which Yugoslavs and members of the Slovenian minority sat.
The British were helpless. They were in the second city of Villach, forty-
seven of them: twenty officers and twenty-seven administrators. Even after
the British forces arrived, there were still more partisans than Tommies.
‘Shooting was out,’ although the Yugoslavs had no heavy weapons. 96

There was at least one comic moment reported by those pioneering
officers in Villach. One of them was reconnoitring in the woods shortly
after the British force arrived and ran into a woman in Luftwaffe uniform.
She made it clear her unit was running out of food. The British officer fol¬
lowed her to a large underground bunker where women were pushing in
and pulling out telephone plugs. It turned out to be the major military
exchange for southern Austria. ‘They had known perfectly well what was

* When Holly Martins goes to the Russian 2nd Bezirk to flush out his friend Harry Lime
in The Third Man, men can be seen clearing rubble by the Reichsbriicke. It is not said
whether they were Nazis.

j* A plebiscite carried out in the wake of the Treaty of Saint-Germain on io October 1920
had given the region to Austria.

302

Austria’s zones and sectors

happening, and had assumed that sooner or later someone would come
along and give them some orders.’ 97

Carinthia not Styria was the lynchpin of British foreign-political aims in
the region. The goal was to prevent Trieste from falling into the wrong
hands — that meant Tito. At the end of the war the New Zealanders had
been sent to take the port and keep the Yugoslavs out. Trieste was to be
granted to Italy in 1947, and in the meantime it was needed to supply the
British and Western Allied garrisons. It was left to Field Marshal Alexander
to convince the Yugoslavs to withdraw. When they refused, the British
printed their own posters, accusing Tito of methods similar to Hitler’s.
Byrnes’s predecessor as American secretary of state, Edward Stettinius,
threatened to withdraw aid from Yugoslavia. Alexander used a line of
argument that was current at the time and assured Tito that territorial set¬
tlements would be left to the ‘peace conference’. The Yugoslavs finally
consented to leave on 21 May.

Bankrupt, overstretched and reeling from the blows inflicted by the
war, the British showed a reluctance to be saddled with Austria. From 1943
onwards they were active in seeking a solution that would mean Austrian
independence. 98 By October 1948 the British presence had declined to
7,000 men and a thousand civilians. In March that year Bevin had made it
clear that it was ‘out of the question to defend Austria’. 99 The British Zone
was made up of Styria, Carinthia and a small part of the eastern Tyrol
around the city of Lienz. Styria presented the new overlords with a prob¬
lem of what to do with widespread sympathy for the Nazis, and Carinthia
with a quite different conundrum: how to handle a large Slovenian minor¬
ity. Besides these, there was the nagging Yalta Agreement. The British, like
the Americans, had agreed to deport any Russian citizens within their zone
of occupation. They had also told Tito they would return Yugoslav citizens
who had opposed him.

Styria had been having a rough time under the Russians. At first the
locals were merely grateful that the war had come to an end. The future
governor, the farmer Anton Pirchegger, recorded the fact in a typically
pious, Austrian-provincial fashion: ‘Christus lebt und wird wieder regieren’
(Christ lives and will rule again). A week later the Russians were banging
on his door demanding schnapps. 100 They proved less than welcome.
During their tenure, the Russians had raped at least 10,000 women and
dragged off anything up to 500 men aged between fifteen and sixty-one to
work in Siberia. One eyewitness remembered the terrible scenes of loot¬
ing, and hearing a German-speaking Russian NCO pronounce one word
in justification: ‘Vergeltung!’ (Retribution!). 101

303

ALLIED ZONES

While the Russians seized anything that appealed to them, the British
sat in Bruck-an-der-Mur and waited until the night of 22—23 J u ly when
the Red Army pulled out, to be replaced by the 46th Division of the
Eighth Army. The Oxford-educated military governor, the Australian
Colonel Alexander Wilkinson, installed his military command in Graz, a
town which had expressed a notorious fondness for the Ftihrer. On 24 July
General McCreery issued a proclamation from the town hall. The British
regime was strict: Wilkinson expressed a certain Anglo-Saxon scepticism
when he told his fellow officers that ‘some, at any rate, of the Austrians
were fairly lukewarm Nazis’. 102 The homes of all the Nazis who had fled
the city were confiscated and the British continued the process of denazi¬
fying the schools. The Russians had made a fairly lame beginning.
Wilkinsons men removed a total of around 400 schoolteachers from a
body some 3,130 strong.

The priority was to endow the zone with a stable political leadership.
Carinthia had been given a Russian-approved cadre and governor in
Reinhold Machold in May, and various self-styled resistance groups vied
for recognition. The British now ‘liberated them from their liberators’.
Wilkinson dissolved the lot. Henceforth Styria would have political parties,
not resistance groups. He sacked Machold on 25 November and appointed
Pirchinger of the O VP. 103 A British observer sat in on every session of the
provincial assembly or Landtag from now on and every measure had to be
approved. It was very much occupation, not liberation. 104 Austrian law as
of 13 March 1938 was to be reinstated, but when that date was challenged
(the Corporate State had done a few questionable things, such as bring in
racial law in 1935) the 1929 constitution was made the fount of legal
authority. A curfew was imposed for Austrians. On 1 August Styria
received its own judicial overlord in the form of the jurist Lieutenant-
Colonel H. Montgomery Hyde. 105

The British were occasionally overbearing and arrogant, leaving at least
one Austrian in no doubt about who the real ‘nation of lords’ were. 106 One
former British subaltern who entered the zone from Italy remembers
thinking that ‘liberation’ was not quite the word: ‘In our eyes an Austrian
was just a slightly different sort of German.’ 107 The arrival of the British
nonetheless gave rise to considerable relief, as the Russians had run the
province down. But it was a difficult situation. A local newspaper, the Neue
Steirische Zeitung, was launched to express the British point of view. There
was no food, and there was no transport to deliver bread to the suburbs and
outlying villages. It was so warm that summer milk went bad on the carts
leaving the dairies. There was very little meat or fat and no sugar. Potatoes

304

Austria’s zones and sectors

were issued at a kilo a week. For anyone who had something to barter, sup¬
plements to this meagre diet could be obtained from the black market on
the Volksgarten. The British authorities made several attempts to break this
up. IoS There was also a degree of lawlessness in what was normally a sleepy
province. Over two hundred murders had been committed since the end
of the war — about a quarter of these by Russians in incidents connected
with rape. The historian Donald Cameron Watt served in the FSS (Field
Security Service). During his time in the unit he vetted ninety-two peti¬
tions from local women wanting to marry British servicemen; investigated
a Third Man-style theft of pharmaceuticals; and looked into the festering
problem of white slavery in the DP camps. 109

The character of the administration in the British Zone is lightheartedly
summed up by Alan Pryce-Jones, then an intelligence officer in the British
army. Austria, he said, was divided into eight zones, each one of them a
separate state. Four of these were civilian states, four run by the army. ‘In
the background is a ninth state, Austria, the chief function of which is to
be talked about at meetings.’ 110 The government of the British Zone was
part of John Hynd’s ‘Hyndquarters’. John Mair, who served on the
Austrian Commission, is quick to point out that there was a huge differ¬
ence in scale between the Austrian Commission and the German Control
Council. 111 Hynd was highly sympathetic but, as in Germany, largely
impotent when it came to changing the government line. At a subaltern
level he was supported by Sir Henry Mack, as well as by Peter Wilkinson,
M. F. Cullis and N. J. A. Cheetham. 112 McCreery went home in April
1946 and was replaced by General Sir James Steele.

The Graz Festival was slightly less spectacular than Salzburg, but it had
a solid tradition. The British were careful to revive it in 1945, and that year
Karl Bohrn conducted and the Grazer were able to hear the voices of
Julius Patzak and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. When the festival was staged the
following year, the occupying power lent it a British flavour, and Sir
Malcolm Sargent was brought in to conduct Elgar’s Second Symphony. 113

Cossacks and Domobranci

In Carinthia the British faced a thorny refugee problem resulting from the
Big Three Conference at Yalta. Tito’s partisans had been fighting Croats
and German- and Italian-backed domobranci or home guard in Slovenia. In
both cases their Catholicism made them allergic to the ideologies proposed
by Tito, and they thought fascism a lesser evil. When the war ended both

305

ALLIED ZONES

the Croats and the domobranci justifiably feared reprisals. There was the
usual spate of denunciations, and the wisest fled north across the revived
Austrian border with their families, through the Ljubelj Pass to Viktring
near Klagenfurt. 114 According to one source, they went first to Hollenburg
on the Drau, where they joined up with a number of Waffen-SS men. 115
Tito’s partisans had also crossed the border in order to stake their claim to
large parts of Carinthia.

The domobranci ran into their first dishevelled Tommies, who promptly
exhibited the light-fingered approach most often associated with the Red
Army and stole their watches. 116 The British were torn between their
sympathy for the Slovenians and their families, and their wartime alliance
with Tito’s partisans who were now showing their colours by raping and
pillaging around Klagenfurt. 117 The domobranci thought the British would
redeploy them to fight the communists. They had not reckoned with the
secret arrangements made at Yalta. Sadly for them, the Cold War had not
yet started. 118 On 19 May 1945 the British and Titos men came to an
agreement to repatriate all Yugoslav nationals. No differentiation was to be
made. The Yugoslavs were not popular with the British and no one was
prepared to stick his neck out for them." 9

Under the Yalta arrangements, the British in Austria had to deal with
45,000 Cossacks requested by the Red Army, as well as the 14,000 Serbs
and Croats who were being reclaimed by Tito. The Cossacks had been
recruited by the Germans in southern Russia from POWs, and they had
been joined by some former tsarist officers and their families. These last
amounted to around 3,000 people. Some of them were not Soviet citizens,
and therefore not covered by the Yalta agreement. As POWs they enjoyed
protection under the Geneva Convention. This was waived. 120 There was
also the fact that most of the Cossacks had been fighting in the SS. Their
last assignment was to fight with Schorner’s army near Prague. There were
60,000 in the British Zone: ‘They wore German uniforms, carried
German arms, were commanded by German generals, and were an integral
part of the German armed forces.’ One thing, however, complicated the
humanitarian issue: ‘They had with them quite a few women and chil¬
dren.’ 121

Marshal Tolbukhin had asked for the Russians to be sent back and the
British had agreed. The deportations were carried out by men of the 46th
and 78th Divisions on orders from V Corps, following a brief visit by the
minister resident at Allied HQ, Harold Macmillan, on 13 May. On 1 June,
they were lured out of their camps in Spittal, Judenburg and Lienz under
false pretences. 122 Once they discovered what was going to happen to

306

Austria’s zones and sectors

them they refused to budge, which led to some ugly scenes. Women and
children said they preferred to be shot there and then to being handed over
to the Soviets. Some of the women tied their children to their backs and
jumped to their deaths in the River Drau. Tommies used rifles, bayonets
and pickaxe handles to convince them to board the lorries that would take
them to the frontier. When a warrant officer was bitten, the British soldiers
beat some of the Cossacks unconscious. The Argylls were particularly
brutal, to women and children as well. 123 The British also ‘returned’ some
900 German officers, including the commander, General Helmuth von
Pannwitz, who was publicly shot on Red Square in Moscow. The British
were forced to use duplicitous tactics in expelling both the Cossacks and
the domobranci, and this caused them considerable distress.

The British were in a difficult position in Carinthia anyway. All the
Allies had confirmed Austria within its pre-1938 borders. On the other
hand, it appears that Tito had actually backed down on the issue of repat¬
riating the domobranci, but the British proceeded anyhow. 124 There is a
suggestion that the commanders of the British Fifth and Eighth Armies
acted on their own initiatives here, fearing armed conflict with the local
partisans. Nigel Nicolson, a British intelligence officer, later summed the
matter up with cold-hearted clarity: ‘There were many people who felt
“Well, so many millions of young men have died in this war, what does
another 30,000 matter?”’ 125 No one, including Nicolson, knew the precise
number of Cossacks in the British Zone. Only when the moment came to
shove the home guardsmen into cattle trucks was he reminded of prison¬
ers being despatched to a German concentration camp. As it was, they
were told they were being transferred to camps in Italy, but they do not
appear to have believed it. The British brought up tanks to make sure there
was no trouble, and searched the men’s rucksacks: their last cameras, knives,
fountain pens and other valuables disappeared into the Tommies’ pockets.
The officers were sickened. The Welsh Guards, who had been given the
job of forcing the 12,000 men back to their deaths, were reported to be on
the brink of mutiny. The matter was later covered up. 126

American Zone

When the Americans marched into Austria in the spring of 1945, they too
saw it less as a ‘liberated’ land than as ‘a part of Germany’. Salzburg, for
example, yielded without a fight on 3 May, but the Americans would tol¬
erate no red—white—red flags. They were unsympathetic to Austrian

307

ALLIED ZONES

complaints about their treatment and dismissed the stories of widespread
rape as ‘Nazi propaganda’. The Austrians were an ‘enemy people’ and
they had only themselves to blame. 127 The famous American airman
Charles Lindbergh noted in his diary that the American GIs had an inter¬
esting interpretation of the word ‘liberation’: it meant helping themselves
to anything they could have without paying for it: cameras, weapons, objets
d’art — ‘even women’. 128

There were good men in their ranks. Paul Sweet was a university history
teacher in the OSS. On 27 June he wrote that military government was
inconsistent with the notion of a liberated country: ‘the sooner we give
Austria back to the Austrians the better’. The OSS took the Moscow
Declaration more seriously than some. Sweet outlined the reasons for the
American presence — to demobilise, protect DPs and arrest Nazis. There
should be a minimum of supervision. Austria was needed to stabilise cen¬
tral Europe. 129 When he had been in the job a few months he changed his
mind. Writing to his wife, he said the Austrian people were ‘morally and
politically bankrupt. The only thing about which they seem to have a firm
opinion is that the US should cut loose from the Russians, the sooner the
better.’ 130

One of the most curious situations the Americans found themselves
facing in Upper Austria was the provisional government set up by Ernst
Kaltenbrunner, the Nazi RSHA (Security Service) and police chief, as an
alternative to Renner. Kaltenbrunner had assembled a number of industrial
magnates and enlisted the support of Schuschnigg’s minister Edmund
Horst-Glaisenau and the archbishop of Salzburg, Andreas Rohracher. Talks
had been held with the mayor of Linz, Franz Langoth, and the Gauleiter of
the Tyrol, Franz Flofer. Some Christian Socialists were brought out of
mothballs such as Karl Seitz, the former mayor of Vienna, and his
Corporate State successor Richard Schmitz. Schmitz had sadly died after
his incarceration in Dachau. Figl’s name was brought up as well. The
Americans had no truck with the alternative government. Kaltenbrunner
was hanged. 131

The US Zone had outstanding political advisers at the second level
resulting from the large German and Austrian presence in America itself.
None of the other Allies possessed such linguists and experts with a first¬
hand knowledge of the conquered lands. One of the American experts was
Martin Herz, whose father had emigrated to the United States from
Moravia but had returned to Vienna, so that his son’s entire schooling had
been in the city. Herz was deeply involved in post-war planning for
Austria. Certain things he found silly or preposterous: the ban on frat was

308

Austria’s zones and sectors

one of these. It was ‘distasteful’ and ‘ineffective’. On the question of
Austria’s ‘liberation’ he was of the view that it was a ‘psychologically rea¬
sonable and effective fiction’. 132

The American commander Mark Clark has gone down in the annals of
the Cold War as one of its biggest personalities, but he did not fall out with
the Russians or abandon the idea of co-operation until early 1946. 133 He
revived the Salzburg Festival in August 1945, and his French opposite
number General Bethouart was helpful in procuring the Clave Quartet and
Jacques Fevrier. He hoped to bash McCreery’s and Koniev’s heads together
and make the British agree to go up to Vienna, but the British remained
as stubborn as ever and Koniev cried off. 134 Clark entertained in style, lodg¬
ing his guests at his HQ in Schloss Klessheim (called Schloss Claessens by
Bethouart) like Hitler before him. Clark was pleased with Klessheim, and
was under no illusions about its previous role as a guesthouse for visitors to
Berchtesgaden. It had been ‘wonderfully modernised and furnished with
art treasures, mostly stolen from France’. 135 The festival was a useful way of
bringing the Allies together and impressing them with American hospital¬
ity. He invited them all for 19 August. Koniev sent Clark’s bugbear Zheltov
in his place. Zheltov wanted to see what was left of Berchtesgaden, and
they visited it in one of Hitler’s own cars. 136

Clark had a number of issues to discuss between concerts. Before
Austria could be allowed its independence again, there needed to be talks
on DPs, food supplies (a particularly thorny issue), free elections, and
‘German’ assets. 137 Lapses were reported in the US denazification pro¬
gramme. 13 * With time the Americans came to the conclusion that it was
not as easy as it had seemed at the outset. Many of the people they had
seen as being as above suspicion were no more than common criminals. 139
In the Salzkammergut Clark made use of a German interpreter who
claimed to have been a big-shot in the resistance to Hitler. When the
German learned that Clark was to take up residence in Vienna, this man
offered him his flat there. Clark says that the locals eyed him with suspicion
when they saw him sitting with Clark in his staff car. Counter-intelligence
was asked to look him up. It transpired that he was no opponent of the
regime, but a senior Nazi, and on the Americans’ own wanted list. 140
Clark tells us that he foiled Russian attempts to reclaim their own citizens
who were ensconced in DP camps in the American Zone. At one point
there was a raid carried out by Soviet soldiers in stolen American uni¬
forms. Clark laid a trap for them and caught them red-handed. There were
750,000 DPs in the American Zone, not all of them Russians by any
means. 141 Clark was being less than frank, of course, about the very limited

309

ALLIED ZONES

protection that the Americans gave to Russians in their zones in Austria or
Germany.

Clark used a great deal of Cold War rhetoric in his account of his time
in Austria, but his mission had largely come to an end before the big deci¬
sions were made. From 1947 the Truman Doctrine and the Marshall Plan
were both designed to stem the tide of communism, by liberal use of both
stick and carrot — chiefly financial. Washington’s National Security Council
was also founded at this time, and it was General Geoffrey Keyes, Clarks
successor, who was the man to enact the full range of Cold War options.
As he pointed out, ‘Prague lies west of Vienna.’ The United States needed
to arm for the Cold War and for the great ‘roll-back’ — the reclamation of
Europe from the Soviets. 142

The American authorities were slow to create a proper political struc¬
ture in their zone. In October there was still no governor appointed for
Upper Austria. 143 They had to deal with the chaos in Austrian industry.
Some of the bigger companies had had installations all over the country and
now found themselves divided up among the Allied zones. The motor
manufacturer Steyr was a case in point. The administration was in Linz, in
the American Zone, but most of the works were in the Soviet Zone, with
the exception of the plant making bicycles and motorbikes, which was in
Graz - what was later to be the British Zone. The Graz factory also made
tank engines and aeroplane parts, which were naturally of interest to the
Red Army. The Russians ensured that they had taken all of these before the
British came in July. 144

Another industrial concern was the Hermann-Goring-Werke, an enor¬
mous conglomerate of sequestered businesses established in Hitler’s home
town of Linz. The works were administered by a Pg called Hans
Malzacher, but the Americans were forced to admit that Malzacher was
universally popular, not only with the governor, Eigl, and the mayor,
Koref, but also with the local communists. The pragmatic solution was to
make an exception and leave him in the job. 145

French Zone

The French Zone, which covered the Vorarlberg and most of the Tyrol,
was originally run from French HQ in Lindau on Lake Constance in
Wiirttemberg. Despite the fraternising billboards set up by General
Bethouart, Austrians and the Germans still nurtured fear and resentment of
the French and their colonial troops — the Moroccans in particular. 146 The

310

Austria’s zones and sectors

French had the usual linguistic problems, as far too few of them spoke
German, but they were able to find a few refugees and German and
Austrian Jews in their Foreign Legion. 147

The principal problems facing the French were their attitude towards
the Renner government; the form of the constitution created after free
elections; the ratification of the constitution; the revision of Nazi statutes;
the reorganisation of the administration after the necessary purge of Nazi
officials; and how to cope with the thousands of refugees, POWs and
Austrian Nazis. 148 The figure who emerged as the clear political leader in
the Tyrol was Karl Gruber, who was credited with having organised a cell
of military opposition to the Germans in the region. On 1 May 1945 he
had managed to close down a number of Nazi organisations in Innsbruck.
When the Americans marched in on 3 May they were offered the rare sight
of an Austrian city festooned with red—white—red flags. The streets were
filled with ‘resistance fighters’, often armed to the teeth. 149

The French were also planning to reopen schools and universities in
their zone in time for the new academic year that autumn. Before that was
done, Nazi staff had to be purged and Nazi texts removed from the
libraries. The University of Innsbruck was in a parlous state — all the win¬
dows had been blown out and the Faculty of Theology closed on Flitler’s
orders. The French vowed also to restore liberties: individual, political, of
assembly and of the press.

The French were reluctant to discharge all their POWs because they
wanted to use them as slave-labourers, as elsewhere. 150 On the other hand
there was very little active pursuit of the Nazis. Paul Sweet visited the
Vorarlberg in June 1945 and found that no one heeded the ban on fiat:
‘everything seems to be much as normal’. 151 Instead of the Nazis being
locked up, they were attached as unarmed auxiliaries to troop units.
Marauding DPs were a problem, the Russians in particular. Theft and
murder was not unknown. Two found guilty of killing and robbery were
executed by the French in the Vorarlberg. 152

Two early difficulties that the French confronted were the arrival of
Archduke Otto and the South Tyrol. Otto was the eldest son of Emperor
Charles, who had abdicated in 1918 and died shortly afterwards. Otto had
enjoyed a small emigre following during the war and he now saw his
chance to push for a Habsburg restoration. He arrived in the Tyrol in
September 1945 and left again at the beginning of 1946. The South Tyrol
had been awarded to Italy in 1918 as a reward for fighting on the Allied side.
As Italy had fought on the wrong side for most of the Second World War,
some southern Tyroleans saw a possibility of returning to Austrian rule.

311

ALLIED ZONES

The Americans moved their troops out of the Tyrol on 7 July, to make
room for the French. When Bethouart arrived in Innsbruck on the 18th he
found a petition from Dr Gruber referring to the ‘bleeding wound’
inflicted on the Tyrol with the loss of the southern part of the region. On
4 September there was a demonstration in Innsbruck in which 25,000 to
30,000 people took part, 12,000 of them in their local costume. 153
Archduke Otto arrived on 10 August. Bethouart reported his presence
both to his own authorities and to the provisional government in Vienna.
According to Bethouart, Renner entertained a degree of nostalgia for the
great days of empire and merely shook his head, exclaiming, ‘Oh! But if he
does nothing political!’ Renner put pressure on Bethouart to expel Otto,
however, possibly because he had heard that the archduke had been con¬
spiring with Gruber to convince the Western Allies to refuse to recognise
his regime. Bethouart replied that he would not fetch and carry for
Renner. Otto continued to rock the boat and his two brothers, Karl
Ludwig and Robert, were in the French Sector of Vienna flirting with the
monarchists in the Federal League of Austrians. Eventually all the Allies
with the exception of the French expressed a desire to see the old
Habsburg ban re-enacted. Otto received delegations during the time he
was under the noses of the French. In the end the provisional government
dealt with the problem by reintroducing the ban on the Habsburgs insti¬
tuted in 1918. By that time Otto had left of his own volition. 154

The first tranche of Nazis in the Tyrol had been eliminated by the
Americans as they conquered the region. They had dealt with the more
notorious cases. On 16 May 1945 all the councils in the Vorarlberg were
sacked, as they were Nazi to a man. Councillors were appointed by the
French until February 1947, when elected councils returned. Flalf the
magistrates had to be dismissed as a result of Party membership, as were
seven university professors.

It had been decided at Potsdam that all Germans who had entered
Austria after the Anschluss were to be repatriated, together with any
German Nazis. The French approached the task with zeal. Taking their cue
from the expulsions of pro-German Alsatians after 1918, they allowed the
Germans to carry just one case, weighing thirty kilos at the most. Germans
were expelled willy-nilly at first, but the pace slackened off in 1946 after
complaints from the British and American authorities in Germany that
they could not accommodate them all. The French showed how partisan
they were by releasing all Austrian POWs. 155 The German minorities in
Romania and Yugoslavia had not been included in the discussions at
Potsdam, and they naturally gravitated towards Austria as former subjects of

312

Austria’s zones and sectors

the Austrian Emperor. For the time being they were herded together in DP
camps.

At the end of 1947 there were still 400,000 DPs in Austria, more than
there had been in 1945. The South Tyroleans had been found homes in the
Austrian northern part of the province. Many had fled from the Soviets,
and the Red Army maintained small staffs with the Western Allies part of
whose work was to track down their own people and repatriate them. The
British had refused to countenance having Soviet officers in their camp at
first, but the Russians had made life difficult for them in Vienna and they
had had to give in. The French refused to agree to Russian requests to yield
the refugees up.

France’s political commitment to its zone in the Tyrol—Vorarlberg
quickly slackened. At the outset the governor, M. Voizard, had a staff of
1,600. A year later less than half that number remained. By the end of the
decade it had sunk to ninety-three. In 1945 there were thirty-four offices
in the Tyrol alone, in 1948 just eleven. Before the French went home, they
performed their own demontage, removing 3,000 machine tools and 2,700
tons of different metals to compensate for the 35,000 machines taken by the
Germans from France: a greater prize was the testing equipment for jet
engines in Kramsach and the wind tunnel at Oetztal, which the French
reassembled at Modane. Some French machinery had ended up in
Kapfenberg in the British Zone. The British helped dismantle it and pack
it up for shipment back to Alsace. 156

3i3

Life in All Four Zones

Germany today is divided into four zones and within each there are
two worlds: an army of occupation and a conquered people.

The former are not just there to supervise and control, they must
also exert an influence; they are meant to stop up the spirit of aggres¬
sion and nationalism and eliminate it before leading the way to
democratic self government; civilisation should heal the smashed and
shaken land.

The first question that comes to mind is what do these two worlds
know of one another? How do they perceive one another? What is
the real relationship?

Naturally no one expects an army of occupation to become an
object of love and adoration, and on the other side, a conquered
people, whose leaders without question launched the war, cannot
expect to be treated at once with sympathy and trust.

But the task of reorientation, even successful administration,
requires an atmosphere of trust and respect on both sides.

Carl Zuckmayer, Deutschlandberichtfur das Kriegsministerium der
Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika, Gottingen 2004, 71

Children

A s a Viennese Jew returning to central Europe in British uniform,
George Clare steeled himself against feeling pity for the conquered. At
the railway town of Hamm in Westphalia, his mettle was put to the test by
a swarm of infants who appeared under the train windows: ‘Eh Tommy . . .
Please Tommy vat you got? Chockie, sandvich, sveets?’ Clare observed the
‘manna from Britain’ that was tossed out to the urchins: hard-boiled eggs,
sweets, sandwiches, chocolate bars, oranges, apples, even tins of pilchards.
The children fought with one another to get at the loot while the soldiers
enjoyed the spectacle, like ‘throwing nuts to monkeys at the zoo’. Clare

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

went back into the compartment and fetched his haversack rations. He
jumped down from the train. The four children closest to the door ran
away. ‘Hier bleiben!’ shouted Clare — Stay here! They turned back, curious
to hear a Tommy speak German. He shared out his rations among the four
of them. He wondered whether any German had done this in the Warsaw
Ghetto and yet he felt that what he was doing was right: ‘I could not hate
all Germans, as the Nazis had condemned and hated all Jews. No, I neither
hated Germans nor — with the exception of the children — did I pity
them.’ 1

Many German children had become feral. They had lost one or both
parents, or had simply been estranged from them. In the big towns they
lived in holes in the ground like the rest, begging or scavenging for food.
At least one British high court judge began his life in this way, until he was
rescued by a British soldier who took him back to Britain with him and
sent him to school. James Stern remembered the vision of these curious
guttersnipes, clothed in rags — ‘or rather, from head to foot they were per¬
fectly camouflaged in filth, so that until they moved you could not tell they
were there’. At the approach of an adult, especially a foreign soldier, they
scattered like so many rabbits, disappearing into holes. When they re-
emerged they sniffed and stared around them. ‘And then you’d see that
they carried stones or sticks or bars of iron, and their teeth were black and
broken, or that they had no teeth, that one had a single arm, another a
crutch, and that the only clean spots on their bodies were the whites of
their eyes.’ When he looked into their eyes, however, they were no longer
rabbits to Stern — they were famished, diseased leopard-cubs ‘whose one
enemy was man’. 2

Some of these children had homes, but they nonetheless went out and
hunted in packs, stealing what they could from the conquerors. When
Stern’s major was alerted to some theft from their well-stocked larder, he
decided that some children were to blame. The supposed criminals were
hunted down to a dung heap where they had their camp and threatened at
pistol point. The youngest of the boys was around five. The only evidence
they found was a bottle containing some pink petrol: American petrol was
dyed pink. That was enough to convict them. The major ordered a search
of their parents’ lodgings. The flats were searched and at least one of the
boys received a clip round the ear from his father, but no contraband was
found, and the case against the boys was dismissed. 3

Nor was it only working-class children who took to crime in this way.
Zuckmayer met a certain Frau Doris von M., a former actress married to
an elderly Prussian nobleman who kept a boarding house for American

ALLIED ZONES

visitors to Berlin. ‘My son steals!’ she told the dramatist. ‘And we don’t
know what we should do about it.’ Her son and his private-school-
educated friends stole to trade, sometimes for pleasure, sometimes for
sport: ‘The only true Commandment is the eleventh — thou shalt not get
caught.’ Jurgen was the boy’s name. One day he returned with a pound of
sugar that he had bought with cigarettes pinched from a teacher’s pocket.
He also had some chocolate, taken from an American nurse. He proudly
delivered these preciosa to his parents, believing that he had done some¬
thing useful and that he was contributing to the family budget. He had two
pilfered cigarettes for his father and was disappointed when he received no
thanks. Jurgen had no religion: ‘The Lord looks after the “Amis”, because
they can afford him. The Ivans don’t need any, because they worship
vodka. The Germans are too poor for either.’

Jurgen’s parents were strict about his thieving, but it was not always so.
Others welcomed a wheelbarrow filled with stolen coal or a pound of
bacon. 4 For many more indigent Germans they could hardly have done
without a little help from their children, particularly teenage boys.
Heinrich Boll’s short story ‘Lohengrins Tod’ (Lohengrin’s Death) of 1950
is about a boy who is shot at by Luxembourgeois soldiers while stealing
coal from a train, falls and suffers appalling injuries. In the hospital they ask
if his parents should be informed, only to find out that his mother is dead,
and the head of the household is his elder brother. Stealing coal was hardly
seen to be a sin: after all, Dr Frings* had actually absolved the coal-stealers
from his pulpit. 5

Children were a considerable problem for the Allied authorities. There
were over fifteen million of them in Germany Of those born after 1930,
some 1,250,000 had lost a parent in the war, and 250,000 had lost both. Up
to a third had no more contact with their fathers as they were in POW
camps, while a further million and a half were refugees from the east, with
a little under half that number living in makeshift camps. In the case of a
boy arrested for petty larceny in Munich in 1946, it transpired that his
mother had been killed in an air-raid in Essen in 1943, that his father was
missing in Russia, that he had been billeted with an aunt in Dortmund but
had been evacuated to East Prussia. He had moved to Danzig to be trained
to operate an anti-aircraft battery where he had been captured by the Red
Army. The Russians had released him. He had gone to Berlin, but had
been unable to locate the relative he was looking for. He had finally gone
to Bavaria in search of food. Many female children resorted to prostitution

* See below pp. 368-9.

316

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

to survive. Boys, too, performed a service for Allied soldiers. In Frankfurt
their most prominent client was the infamous American major ‘Tante
Anna’ (Aunt Anna). 6

American schoolmasters thought the appropriate policy was to organise
the children in sporting clubs and teach them democracy at the same time.
It was believed that baseball and football might instil a sense of fair play in
small Germans. The sporting life was lost on many of them, but jazz and
dancing tended to succeed where baseball failed: the jitterbug and boogie-
woogie were popular with German youth, as were Louis Armstrong and
Duke Ellington. Attempts to extend musical re-education to Samuel
Barber and Aaron Copeland proved less successful. The Germans had a
musical tradition of their own. A camp was established at Compiegne near
Paris to train German teachers. 7 The Americans made the mistake of
trying to herd German children together in these imitation summer camps.
Hitlers Volksgemeinschaft had emphasised the community in preference to
the individual, and right-thinking German youth wanted nothing of the
American idea. They loathed all notions of being ‘herded together once
again’.

One visionary was Yella Lepman, a Jewish writer born in Stuttgart who
returned to Germany in 1945 in an American uniform. From 1946 she
built up an international children’s library in Munich which she ran until
1957. In December 1945 she went before incredulous American generals to
demand cases of books for German children. She stood her ground and
eventually received their blessing to import some. In her memoir she
describes the sight of young children as she first encountered them playing
in the bomb craters before the ruined station. Many were without shoes,
and ran around in their socks or barefoot. It was hard to tell the difference
between little boys and girls; ‘here and there they made an attempt to beg;
a ten-year-old with one leg, the other certainly lost during a night of
bombing, hops like a lame bird around the American canteen, clapping his
hands imploringly. Occasionally a white or black soldier takes pity and
throws the child something: a half chewed piece of chocolate out of his
pack, a stale sandwich, a few cigarettes to barter: that produces a wild com¬
motion, sometimes a fight, a punch-up.’ 8

CARE packets were the salvation of suffering Germans like Charlotte
von der Schulenburg. After the currency reform of 1948 which scrapped
the inflationary Reichsmark she exchanged the coffee in the parcels for
Deutsche Marks. She also received second-hand clothes from English and
American families who had heard of her plight. There was always a party
when the parcels came and the maid Klara was proud to take the children

3i7

ALLIED ZONES

into the village dolled up in their not quite new finery. The collars were
dazzlingly white, their hairbands freshly ironed.

Another charity organisation for the families of the Plotters was founded
by a Swiss doctor, Albert von Erlach. The money was spent on taking the
children of the conspirators and giving them a holiday with a Swiss family.
Two of Charlotte’s children were dressed up in their best tracksuits and clogs
and taken to a Red Cross train in Hanover where they were consigned to
the care of English nurses. The train took off with little Schulenburgs,
Schwerins and Kleists. They came back three months later. One of the
Schulenburg daughters had put on seven and a half kilos. She was smartly
dressed in grey flannel and wonderful shoes. The other had plump cheeks
and a splendid little coat. They called out to their mother, ‘We have brought
you silk stockings and Nescafe!’ The following year two of her other chil¬
dren went and gorged themselves on oranges and chocolate and other
delicacies that Germans could only dream of. It broke her heart to lose her
children for such a long time, but she had to admit the benefits. 9

Arts

German literature was set for a flowering after 1945, once the pressure of
Nazism had been lifted, and Goebbels’s nose pulled out of the pot. Thomas
Mann had adopted a typically high and mighty attitude to any literary stir¬
rings that took place between 1933 and 1945: ‘A stench of blood and
shame attaches to them; they should all be pulped.’ Had such pulping
come about, it would have been as effective a form of censorship as the
Nazis ever used. 10 Mann’s comments were occasioned by an invitation to
return to Germany penned by the author Walter von Molo in the summer
of 1945.

Please come soon . . . look at the grief-furrowed faces, look at the unutter¬
able sadness in the eyes of the many who did not take part in the
glorification of the shadowy side of our natures, who could not leave their
homes, because we are talking here of many millions of people for whom
there was no other place on earth other than their own land which was
gradually transforming itself into a huge concentration camp, in which there
would be only different grades of prisoners and warders.

Mann’s rigid stance did not make him popular in Germany, and Hans
Habe, who had returned to Germany in American uniform and set about
castigating his former countrymen, was dismissed as a ‘Morgenthau-boy’. 11

318

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

Ernst Jiinger’s tract Der Friede (The Peace) was one of the most impor¬
tant pieces of samizdat literature written during the war, and it continued
its illicit circulation after the peace. It was written in 1941 and revised in
1943, when Jiinger was protected by the Army Command, chiefly in Paris.
The following year Jiinger suffered a personal tragedy when his son Ernst
was killed near Carrara in Italy. It was Fritz-Dietlof von der Schulenburg
who brought a copy of the text back to Germany and circulated it among
the opposition. More copies were made in March 1945, and these were dis¬
tributed in south Germany The Allies, however, refused to grant a licence
to print the book. In 1948 it was published in Paris, Amsterdam and New
York and in 1949 in Zurich and Vienna. 12 On 30 August 1945, Jiinger had
a visit at Kirchhorst: ‘In the afternoon Axel von dem Bussche-Streithorst
came, a young and severely handicapped major. He brought with him a
copy of my treatise on the peace. I have the impression that this is the best
known of my writings . . . although no press has printed it, no bookseller
has sold it, and no newspaper has published a review. The whole fame of
the book rests on a few copies that I gave away.’ 13

Written in Jiinger s mystical style, Der Friede is a work of great foresight
which makes a plea for an honest, workable peace. It is at once clear why
the Allies disliked it: it calls their actions — and their peace — into question
even before they had formulated the terms. For Jiinger the blood of dead
soldiers was the seed that would bring forth corn after the peace; and that
corn was for all to share, conqueror and conquered. It must be a peace in
which all sides win. Hatred was poor-quality corn. ‘The good corn that has
here been so finely ground should never be squandered; it must provide us
with bread for a long time.’ 14 Jiinger spared neither side. He talked of the
exterminations carried out by the Germans, ‘where men were killed like
vermin’ or ‘hunted down like wolves’. ‘Dark rumours spoke of horrible
agapes where thugs and torturers . . . waded in the blood of their victims.’
For the foreseeable future these ‘death pits’ would remain in the minds of
man — ‘they are the real monuments to this war like those at Douaumont
and Langemarck’.* ‘No one can rid himself of guilt.’ 15 Jiinger cast himself
as the ‘decent’ soldier, the respecter of his enemy, for ‘no one can be a hero
to his enemy who does not credit him.’ 16 Finally, Jiinger warned against a
merely technical, non-creative peace. Such a settlement would mean that
‘tyranny would grow and fear with it, the darkness would spread yet further
and in a short while new fronts would open, occasioning new conflicts’. 17

* Douaumont was one of the bloodiest battles in the Verdun campaign; Langemarck near
Ypres witnessed the killing of the flower of German youth in October and November 1914.

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Jiinger had his fans, although they were not often to be found among
the forces of occupation. He was also under attack from the exiles. He was
the most important German writer to have stayed put, but he wrote no
praise of the Nazis, and when the Nazis offered him a seat in their emas¬
culated Reichstag he told them he would rather write a good poem than
represent 60,000 dolts. His book On the Marble Cliffs was seen as a brave
attack on the dictatorship, and gave solace to many opponents of the
regime. Klaus Mann nonetheless lashed out at him in Auf der Suche nach
einem Weg, calling him a ‘card sharp who tries to mislead people into
believing barbarity was a new way of thinking’. 18

Like everyone else in public life, artists and writers had to fill in the 133-
question Fragebogen or questionnaire to determine their degree of
collaboration with the regime. Ernst von Salomon sent up the high-minded
and clumsy Allied approach in his highly successful book Der Fragebogen (The
Answers) of 1951. Salomon was naturally an object of suspicion to the Allies
because he had played a role in the assassination of the Jewish foreign min¬
ister Walther Rathenau in 1922. Salomon had been nineteen at the time, a
proudly Prussian, right-wing thug who had been at a cadet school when the
Great War ended and regretted having been denied the chance to join the
scrap and serve his king and Kaiser like countless other Prussian noblemen
before him. He was in and out of prison throughout the 1920s, but his first
book, Die Geachteten (The Outlaws) of 1930, brought him into the literary
limelight. He became a successful author and screenwriter and one of the
darlings of the publisher Ernst Rohwohlt.

Salomon was a Prussian royalist, not a Nazi, but the tone of his books
appealed to the country’s rulers after 1933. He nonetheless dismissed out of
hand their attempts to woo him. When American interrogaters asked him
why he had not pursued what would have been a highly successful career
in the Party, he replied candidly that he had earned three times as much as
a screenwriter as he would have done as a Gauleiter. 19 Die Fragebogen was
a huge success, selling a quarter of a million copies in the fledgling
Bundesrepublik. Having been so severely chastised and humiliated by the
Allies, many Germans revelled in its pugnacious treatment of what
Salomon saw as American hypocrisy. Liberals, both in Germany and
abroad, were not so sure. The Oxford academic Goronwy Rees, who
provided an introduction to the English edition, warned readers against the
smoothness of the author’s tongue, but concurred with Salomon’s outraged
contention that ‘to be convicted of National Socialism was necessarily to be
convicted of guilt’. 20

What annoyed others more was the absence of apology for the deeds of

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LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

the Nazis, or indeed for some of the spicier moments of the authors youth
(even though he had paid his debt), and his desire to turn the SA leader and
Nazi ambassador to Slovakia, Hanns Ludin, into a decent man and a martyr
to his principles. Despite his diplomatic rank Ludin was hanged, or rather
strangled, by the Czechs in January 1948. It took him twenty minutes to
die. 21

But, if some of the arts were to see a flowering, others were dogged by
denazification. This particularly affected music and the persons of
Germany’s two greatest non-emigre composers, Richard Strauss and Hans
Pfitzner. Both had been members of the Nazi Reich Kulturkammer and
were eligible for internment under JCS 1067. The seventy-six-year-old
Pfitzner was put in the camp at Garmisch-Partenkirchen, smack opposite
the gates to Strauss’s villa, in 1945 and was banned from writing. The ban
was lifted the following year, but he had to go before the Spruchkammer
or denazification tribunal in 1947. He died in the same year as Strauss:

1949.

Strauss managed to avoid internment. He had never been a Nazi, and on
1 May 1945 described the Third Reich as ‘12 years of the rule of bestial¬
ity, ignorance and illiteracy, which brought about the destruction of 2,000
years of German civilisation’. Then Thomas Mann’s son Klaus turned up
and tricked him into saying the sort of things that would make Americans
believe he was an unrepentant Nazi. But not all Americans shunned him,
and famously the oboist and GI John de Lancie commissioned one of his
great late works, the Oboe Concerto of 1945. Denazification dangled over
Strauss’s head too, but he managed to make it to Switzerland. In 1947 he
gave a tour in Britain, although his music was still banned in Germany He
was finally cleared in June 1948. He had meanwhile become an Austrian
citizen. 22

The visual arts were also hampered by the perceived need to avoid
everything that had been practised under the Nazis: representation was out.
Those members of the older generation who struggled on did it with far
less conviction, as was plain to see in the poor late works of Dix and
Grosz. One exception, perhaps, were the ‘unpainted’ works of the right-
wing artist Nolde, who had gone into ‘inner exile’ after his paintings had
been declared degenerate by the Nazis. The Nazi artists, the sculptor
Breker for example, had no appreciable audience now. The coming men
were of the Beuys and Baselitz type, the latter literally standing tradition on
its head.

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The Press

The new papers after the war in Berlin were propaganda sheets put out by
the Russian army such as the Nachrichten fur die deutsche Bevolkerung. The
first proper paper was the Tdgliche Rundschau, which appeared on 15 May
1945, edited by SBZ. It was eagerly scoured in hope that it would give a
clue to what the Russians would do next. The next to appear was the
Berliner Zeitung a week later. Initially this was also the work of the Soviets,
but they handed it over to the town hall, and it was edited by Rudolf
Hernnstadt, a Jewish journalist who had enjoyed a good reputation before
the war. The first paper for Berlin was the communist Deutsche
Volkszeitung, edited by a Muscovite. This was followed by the socialist Das
Volk.

Experience and language made German and Austrian Remigranten
invaluable when it came to controlling and editing the new press. Bernhard
Menne became the first editor of the Welt am Sonntag, while Erich Brost
was his opposite number on the Kolnischen Kurier. The Viennese E. H.
Pollitzer — or Pollitt — was editor of the Liihecker Post. At first he worked
under the historian A. G. Dickens before he was allowed to run his own
show. Other returned Germans became prominent journalists. Leo Felix,
who had gone under the name Felix Field during the war, worked for a
number of papers. Peter de (or von) Mendelssohn was the British equiva¬
lent of a Muscovite: he had emigrated to Britain and served in the British
army and helped the British establish the credentials of German journalists
after the war. 23 He was editor of Ullsteins ambitious Neue Zeit. In the end
this came to nothing, and the first paper free from Allied propaganda was
the Tagesspiegel.

For a while the Americans founded their ‘newspaper metropolis’ on the
little town of Bad Nauheim. This was the base for two new papers, the
Frankfurter Presse and the Frankfurter Rundschau. The first issue of the
Allgemeine Zeitung - which was to become the famous Frankfurter Allgemeine
Zeitung (FAZ) - came out on 7 August 1945, after the break-up of the
Potsdam Conference. The editor had instructions from the Americans not
to print any stories about Allied discord. Later Peter de Mendelssohn ran
that too, before returning to London. The Frankfurter Presse got off to a
good start, with the letter from Walter von Molo to Thomas Mann and a
piece by Alfred Kerr. The Liberal Democrats had their voice in Der Morgen.
By September, newspapers were popping up like mushrooms. There were
150 of them founded between 1945 and 1948. 24

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LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

The Americans had a considerable success with the Neue Zeitung and the
glossy Heute in Munich. Erich Kastner edited the Neue Zeitung, which was
controlled by Major Hans Wallenberg, a former Ullstein editor who had
emigrated in 1937. Wallenberg was a convinced anti-communist who left
the Neue Zeitung to work for Springer in Hamburg. The paper was a
breath of fresh air in its time, as its aficionados admired the quality of the
writing and ignored its propaganda content. In 1947 it was selling 800,000
copies, and Wallenberg believed he could easily dispose of one and a half
million. Zuckmayer thought that the Americans could be really proud of
what they had achieved through the Neue Zeitung . 25 Another prominent
‘remigrant’ was Hans (Janos) Habe, the son of the Viennese press baron
Imre Bekessy. 26 Habe ran parts of the press for the Americans and had to
deal with the odd dissenting voice the Americans wanted to ban. One of
these was Der Ruf, which branded the occupation ‘anachronistic, colonial-
istic and inhumane’. Habe turned to Thomas Mann for support: ‘These
young people hate their fathers; but they hate the enemies of their fathers
even more.’ 27

The Americans were also successful in creating radio stations with a dis¬
tinct propaganda role. One of these was Radio Liberty, launched on 12
August 1946. Another was RIAS (Radio in American Sector), which
came into its own during the Berlin blockade, broadcasting from vans. Clay
believed that RIAS did essential propaganda work, and that the Americans
should grant it funds to continue. 28

In the summer of 1947, Tisa von der Schulenburg found work as a jour¬
nalist in Hamburg. She paid a call on Martin Beheim-Schwarzbach, who
worked in the office of Die Welt in the city. He had been a chess partner in
London of Tisa’s first husband, Fritz Hess. The editor, Julius Hollos, was
also present at the meeting. She told them she wanted to work as an illus¬
trator on the Suddeutsche Zeitung. Why not come to us?’ they said. She was
engaged at RM300 a month, as a writer and illustrator. 29 She focused her
attention on the Ruhr, where she sketched the miners in the same way as
she had drawn the pits in County Durham in the 1930s. Everyone was sus¬
picious of her. The British thought she was a communist agitator, the
miners a British spy. When she tried to cover the 1948 London Olympics
for Die Welt the British refused to grant her papers. In despair she took the
veil. 30

Where the former owners had been Jewish, newspapers were relatively
free from Allied interference. This was the case of Ullstein in Berlin,
owners of the Berliner Zeitung, the Berliner Morgenpost and the Berliner
Abendpost. Some of the Ullsteins had fled to America and others to

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London, where they had created an Ullstein Ltd. The head of the family,
Hermann Ullstein, had died in the autumn of 1944. The only Ullstein
remaining in Germany was Heinz, who remained alive because of his
Aryan wife. Like most Jews married to Christians, he performed hard
labour for the Todt Organisation, but fled at the right moment and sur¬
vived the massacre of many of the others. He surfaced just in time to save
the machinery of the press, which the Russians had dismantled but not yet
shipped.

Axel Springer was a creation of the British Zone. The successful
German weekly Der Spiegel began life as Diese Woche, the child of the
twenty-one-year-old Major Chaloner of the Hanover Information
Council. When its editorial got out of hand, it was offered to the Germans
and Springer. Springer was given his first licence by Major William
Barnetson, later chairman of Reuters. Despite the opposition of some
British administrators, Springer rapidly advanced to become Germany’s
first post-war press baron. 31

Attitudes to 20 July

The Allies introduced a term for the victims of National Socialism, which
should have secured privileges. In practice this did not happen much at
first. They were called ‘Opfer des Faschismus’ (victims of fascism) or OdF.
In theory at least Greta, the widow of the poet Adam Kuckhoff who had
been executed as a member of the communist-inspired ‘Red Orchestra’,
and Marion Grafin Yorck, whose husband perished on a gibbet after 20
July, should have received higher rations. The OdFs had their own relief
organisation. It was not alone — there was a rival body in the VVN, or
Vereinigung der Verfolgten des Naziregimes.

While he was attached to an American unit researching the nature of
Nazism, the poet W. H. Auden heard the story of the Scholls for the first
time and their touching but ultimately hopeless attempt to resist Hitler:
‘Those who condemn the Germans for their lack of opposition . . . should
have spent six months here during the war.’ 32 Hans and Sophie Scholl,
Alexander Schmorrell, Christoph Probst, Willi Graf and Professor Kurt
Huber had brazenly printed leaflets attacking Hitler and the war and scat¬
tered them throughout the lecture halls of the university in Munich. A
branch of this ‘Weisse Rose’ Movement had been formed in Hamburg too.
They had all been beheaded for their pains — and eight more in
Hamburg. 33

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LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

Auden and his friends went to see the family of ‘Schurik’ Schmorrell to
learn the story at first hand. It proved a harrowing and emotional moment
as the father, mother and sister of the young medical student rehearsed the
story of his arrest and execution. The sister, Natascha, had been tortured
and lost an eye in the process. This did not protect them from the
American army of occupation. James Stern later learned that the
Schmorrells, father, mother and sister of a hero of the resistance, had been
kicked out of their home to provide accommodation for servicemen and
their families. 34

However much Stern wished to deny the idea of‘good Germans’, the
subject exerted a sort of fascination for him. Spurred on by what Auden
had discovered about the White Rose conspirators, he paid a visit to
Prince Fugger von Glott in his vast palace near Memmingen. The prince
had been designated governor of Bavaria in the event of Hitlers death on
20 July 1944, as he was connected with the two Jesuit priests who had
taken part in the discussions of the opposition. He had been arrested after
the failure of the Plot and had been one of the few survivors. As he told his
harrowing tale the scales began to drop from Stern’s eyes.

The BBC’s Hugh Carleton Greene made an early sympathetic pro¬
gramme about the Plot broadcast on its first anniversary on 20 July 1945.
Greene had been a journalist in Germany before the war and an intelli¬
gence officer during the conflict. After the war he directed the
German-language service of the BBC and as control officer for the media
exerted an important influence in the intellectual reconstruction of
Germany Ursula von Kardorff, who had been closely connected to many
of the plotters, described the programme as ‘very fair, no one could have
done it better’. From it she learned the sad news of Nikolaus von Halem’s
death. 35

German attitudes were more complicated. Until May 1945 these men
had been traitors; now ordinary Germans had to get used to the idea that
they were actually heroes. For those who had been peripheral to the plot¬
ters’ circle this was not a problem. Ursula von Kardorff was particularly
interested to know the fate of Fritz-Dietlof von der Schulenburg. The
BBC or the Allied station in Calais had put it about that he was still alive.
His wife Charlotte had also held out hope. Immediately after the war she
had gone to the British CO in Plon to ask whether there was any truth in
the broadcasts. She was received by a Jewish liaison officer who promised
to look into things. Later he appeared at Testorf where she was living. ‘That
was just propaganda’ with no foundation in fact, he told her. Her husband
had been hanged in August 1944. 36 Also in Liibeck was Fritz-Dietlof’s

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sister Tisa. On the day of Greene’s broadcast she suffered a complete ner¬
vous collapse: ‘The memory of the past year. All the tears that I had failed
to shed at Fritzi’s death came out unexpectedly in an unstaunchable deluge,
I was defenceless. All my brothers were dead. My home was lost.’ 37

One exile who had a fully open mind about the German opposition to
Hitler was Carl Zuckmayer. Zuckmayer had been a Heidelberg contem¬
porary of Carlo Mierendorff, one of the chief plotters who had been killed
in an Allied bombing raid on Leipzig in December 1943. He had also been
a friend of Helmuth James von Moltke, great-nephew of the Great Moltke,
Prussian chief of staff in Bismarck’s wars, and nephew of the Lesser Moltke,
who as chief of staff bungled the German advance in 1914. Helmuth
James’s manor at Kreisau (a gift to the older Moltke from his grateful king)
had been used for meetings and debates by members of the opposition,
who were later known as the Kreisauer Kreis, or Kreisau Circle.

Zuckmayer had believed that the Kreisauer were the perfect breeding
stock for the new Germany, but he sadly realised all too quickly how
comprehensive had been the purge after 20 July. Not only Mierendorff and
Moltke were dead, but also his friends the trades-unionist Wilhelm
Leuschner and the socialist Theodor Haubach. Some, however, had sur¬
vived; and Zuckmayer felt they should be hailed, and receive a promise of
support. 38 Many of their names had not even appeared in the newspapers —
‘the footsloggers, the unknown warriors of the resistance’. Zuckmayer
cites one example of a widow whose husband had been arrested in June
1941. More than a year later a neighbour drew her attention to a notice in
an advertisement column. It informed her and the rest of the world that the
man had been executed for high treason. The widow had lived as a post-
office cleaner, but when Zuckmayer met her she had no work and no
savings. The only thing she had to live on was a modest sum from the OdF.
She was bitter, because the Nazis did more for their people; indeed the
judges who had sentenced her husband to death received pensions, and so
did their widows. She lived in great solitude, her only pleasure had been
her wireless set, but the Nazis had taken that away. She was resigned to her
fate: nothing could give her back her husband. 39

One who survived the general purge was the poet and writer Gunther
Weisenborn. He had been involved with Harro Schulze-Boysen and the
Red Orchestra. The Gestapo lacked evidence against him and his life was
spared. He was condemned to life imprisonment. His young wife had
endeavoured to maintain contact with him in prison in Luckau. She dis¬
covered that he was part of a work detail that was sent out of the prison, so
she travelled on the trains that transported the prisoners in order to catch

326

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

a glimpse of him. She had written and performed music to accompany
some of his lyrics, and to attract his attention she whistled one of these
tunes. One day she heard the same tune whistled inside the prisoners’ car¬
riage, and knew that he was aware that she was near him. When the
Russians came they released the prisoners from their ordeal, but immedi¬
ately they were assigned roles within the zone. Meanwhile the Battle for
Berlin reigned, and she could not find a way to him. The Russians finally
dismissed him from his job and he rode on a bicycle to Berlin. Their
former home had been destroyed by bombs, and he had not a clue where
she might be. Later he was riding though an unfamiliar suburb when he
saw another bicycle coming towards him: it was her — ‘They had found one
another in the chaos.’ 40

Jews in Germany and Austria

One way or another, Germany and Austria had lost the Jews, who had
been such a noticeable part of their populations. There had been around
450,000 in Germany in 1933. Of these some two-thirds emigrated. The
other third perished in the camps and ghettos. In Austria the original
figure was around 180,000, with almost all of them living in Vienna. Again
two-thirds got away, but the other 65,000 died. Of those whose lives were
saved by timely emigration, only a tiny percentage returned. Most of them
would have been reluctant to find themselves face to face with the mur¬
derers of their friends and relations. But there were Jews in Germany and
Austria after 1945 — soldiers and DPs.

Not all Germans had been pleased by the official antisemitism of the
Nazi years, by any means. Ursula von Kardorff, who saw a convoy of
vehicles emblazoned with Stars of David (they belonged to the Jewish
Infantry Brigade) leading off a posse of bedraggled POWs, called it ‘divine
justice’ and recalled the moment three years before when she had seen Jews
wearing the same stars cowering in the backstreets of Berlin while German
soldiers swaggered around in smart uniforms bedecked with decorations. 41

By the summer of 1945, the Jews had their own fighting units in
Germany Up to 35,000 Jewish Palestinians signed up for the Brigade — a
proper fighting force. For much of the war the British had allowed German
and Austrian Jews only to serve unarmed in the Pioneer Corps and many
felt profoundly insulted. When former German and Austrian Jews arrived
in Germany in 1945 they learned what had become of their relatives and
co-religionaries who had stayed behind. They had feared the worst, but

327

ALLIED ZONES

few could have imagined that the horror would be as bad as it was. They
were still in uniform and very few could do much to help in the circum¬
stances. One exception was Captain Horwell, who became assistant
commander of Bergen-Belsen after the liberation, and was able to aid the
10,000 who survived. 42

Many German or Austrian Jews had distinguished themselves in the
fighting and they were to go on to play important roles under the occu¬
pation. One who played a significant political part in the British army was
Michael Alexander Thomas. At D-Day Thomas was a liaison officer
between the British and the Poles. He was much feared by his staff, who he
insisted should shower and brush their teeth daily. Such rigour earned
him the sobriquet ‘the Prussian Baron’. 43 In Germany he was appointed
political officer and made firm contacts with leading socialist politicians
such as Karl Severing and Rudolf Petersen in Hamburg. He prevented
General Templer from banning Germans from wearing military uniforms,
as he pointed out they had no other clothes. Templer found this advice
unwelcome. Thomas left the army as a result of the insensitivity of his
immediate superior, Lieutenant-Colonel Pearson, who referred to him as
a Jew-boy’.

Thomas was not the only Jew holding high rank as a political officer. In
Schleswig-Holstein Major Lyndon was head of the Political Department.
Jews also performed important roles in Information Departments — that is,
propaganda and denazification. Two majors, Calmon and Kendal (born
Knobloch), served first in Austria before being assigned the task of finding
war criminals. Major Linford was second secretary to Allied Control
Commission in Austria, acting as liaison with the other Allies. His coun¬
terpart in Berlin was a Captain Lederer. Kaye Sely was chief of information
control, first in Hamburg and then in Berlin. Many of these Jews were aca¬
demics in disguise. The distinguished historian of Germany F. L. Carsten
was the son of a Berlin doctor who had Anglicised his first name (Franz) to
Francis. He spent his war at the Political Warfare Executive (PWE) and
performed an important role during the occupation as the author of a
handbook explaining Germany to British forces. 44

Many Jews spoke German — although they often refused to use it among
themselves, having decided that the language was somehow polluted. Even
the Poles used Jewish soldiers as interpreters with the Germans in the so-
called ‘Recovered Territories’. 43 When George Clare went to work in
denazification in Berlin in 1946, he found that all his colleagues were
German or Austrian Jews or half-Jews with the exception of the Russian.
Sely was from Munich. The American, Ralph Brown, was a Berliner. 46

328

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

The role of the Jews in the British army occasionally caused concern.
Kaye Sely showed George Clare a letter from ‘Public Safety’ accusing the
Jews of excessive zeal in denazification, citing the fact that most of the lead¬
ing lights were former German and Austrian Jews who might be acting
from motives of revenge. 47 There were many more Jews in the American
army than in the British. The Americans were much more willing to
grant commissions to refugees. The British had qualms about using them.

Most of the Jews employed during the occupation worked as inter¬
preters, and a special school was formed to train them in Brussels. An
Austrian, Major Reitlinger, who had been in SOE during the war, was the
eyes and ears of General McCreery in Vienna. A Viennese, Sergeant R.
Rawdon, was interpreter for the Military Police unit who were the first
British soldiers to enter Berlin. Not only Jews, however, were used to make
up for the linguistic inadequacies of the British forces. Until they realised
who they were dealing with, the British and Americans actually employed
members of the Nazi Concordia Bureau and British Free Corps the motley
gang commanded by John Amery, son of the colonial secretary Leo. Once
the penny dropped, the traitors were shipped back to Britain and tried. 48

The Fate of Jewish DPs

The Jewish survivors who drifted towards Germany in the hope of reach¬
ing the West or Palestine were put back behind barbed wire in DP camps.
Many children were born in captivity. For the Jewish survivors there was a
quandary: once they had achieved a sense of humanity once again and
could begin to think about the basics of food and clothing, they needed to
decide what their future would be, and where. Could they go back to their
old homes in Poland or Hungary? These countries had been more or less
cleared of Jews. There were no more friends and relations to welcome
them, and wherever they went they would be reminded of the scale of
their tragedy. And there was the nasty thought of the gentile neighbour,
who might look them up and down, surveying them with a mocking
smile that said ‘What? Still alive?’ 49

These Jews, who were known as the she’erit Hapletah or ‘rescued
remainder’, kept flooding into Germany. Partly this was a result of renewed
antisemitic violence in the new Poland, where between 1,500 and 2,000
Jews were killed in pogroms in Kielce and elsewhere in 1945. Occupied
Germany was considered the safest place to be. Some 270,000 Jews went to
Germany after the end of the war and sought refuge in DP camps. The

329

ALLIED ZONES

period before they were to find new homes in Palestine and elsewhere has
been called the ‘grim aftermath of the Holocaust’. 50

The British were suspicious about the influx of Jews into Germany.
They thought, possibly correctly, that they were intending to use Germany
as a springboard to Palestine. The head of displaced-persons operations for
UNRRA in Germany, Lieutenant-General Sir Frederick Morgan, thought
a secret organisation was behind the arrival of so many ‘well-dressed, well-
fed, rosy-cheeked’ Jews who appeared to have ‘plenty of money’. The
British began to bar entrance to the DP camps to new arrivals and prevent
Jews from going south via Austria. They also introduced a compulsory
labour law for the inhabitants of the camps. 51

At their height there were 184 Jewish camps scattered around Germany:
there were eleven in the French Zone, twenty-two in the British and 151
in the American. One of the most famous camps was at Landsberg in
Bavaria, where the Landsberger Caytung was based. The Landsberger Caytung,
the most successful Jewish paper of the time, offered practical advice to
Jews and reported on the Nuremberg trials. 52 Caytung (newspaper) was an
example of the Germanified Yiddish spoken in the camps. The Katzet was
the concentration camp, from the German ‘KZ’.

One unfortunate aspect of life in the DP camps was that Jews were often
driven in with their former tormentors — Hungarian, Ukrainian, Latvians
and Poles who had worked voluntarily in the camps and were now as good
as stateless. They formed a rough and often criminal core at the centre of
the camp. It was not uncommon for the Allies to assign ex-Nazis to the
camps as guards; to add insult to injury, they were armed. The presence of
these sentries and the barbed-wire fences around the barracks gave the
Jews’ new quarters an aspect of the concentration camps they had only
recently quit. 53

The preponderance ofjewish DP camps in the American Zone was no
accident: Jews wanted to reach America and found British policy on
Palestine unsympathetic. Britain was the principal enemy of the Jews
before 1949. 54 From January to April 1946 admissions to American camps
ran at around 3,000 a day, with some 2,000 entering camps in the
American Zone in Austria. By April there were 3,000 Jews in Berlin,
1,600 in the French Zone, 15,600 in the British and 54,000 in the
American. There were six times as many Jews in American-occupied
Austria as in the British Zone. By the end of the year there were 204,000
Jews in the parts of Germany and Austria controlled by the Western
Allies, 90 per cent of them in the American Zones. It was not always
the case, however, that the Americans were more considerate towards

330

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

the Jews than the British. General Patton expressed the view that they were
‘baser than animals’. 55

The Americans were spending $500,000,000 a year on the camps. There
was some question as to whom the Jews belonged. They were hardly likely
to want to be Germans, and most of the eastern states disowned them too.
They were effectively stateless. As numbers continued to swell, the
Americans let in a trickle to the US by slightly loosening their quota in
December 1945. The British Dominions, which had been excessively
stingy in extending hospitality in 1938, continued to sport the oak. Jews
who tried to run the blockade into Palestine were famously intercepted
and interned in DP camps on Cyprus. When the Jewish state was estab¬
lished in May 1948 they flooded across the water. 56

The DP camps in Germany resembled Yiddish-speaking villages. The
language acquired immense importance before Hebrew developed under
the auspices of the new state of Israel. German was clearly out, unless there
was no alternative. After 1949 the state of Israel would ban both German
and German music. The pre-war drive to assimilation also ground to a halt.
Adolf Hitler had taught the Jews in no uncertain terms that they were not
wanted. 57 The camps were as close to the Shtetlach as anyone was likely to
see after the Third Reich. Indeed, they have been described as the shtetl’s
last evocation. 58 The Jews remained there until they could find a means of
getting to Palestine or the United States. The American quota remained
very strict until 1950.

Carl Zuckmayer believed that the Jewish DP camps were keeping anti¬
semitism alive. As the Jews were outsiders or foreigners, the word Ausliinder
(foreigner) had become synonymous with Jew in some parts of the country.
A little girl near his house in the Salzkammergut told him, ‘Mummy went
shopping because she wanted to bake something for you. She needed flour,
so she had to go to the foreigners.’ Often this meant going to a DP camp
where those still lucky enough to own cars often found supplies of benzene.

The Jewish camps were comparatively well provided for, and the surplus
was sold off — for a price. Zuckmayer heard the Germans grumble that the
Jews were growing rich from their hunger. In a dark corner of the main
station in Munich he saw a Jew wearing a kaftan, with a long beard and
curls — ‘a figure never seen in this part of Germany, but perhaps [visible] in
Vienna’s Leopoldstadt, in Bratislava, Lodz or Warsaw’.* He had a table,
chair and cash register, and scruffy individuals were showing him things

* Zuckmayer exaggerates. Such figures were certainly to be seen on Berlin’s Sophienstrasse
after 1918.

331

ALLIED ZONES

they had in their pockets. A woman told him it was a big jewellery market.
The last of the family heirlooms were being transformed into meat, fat or
coffee. Some of the gems were obviously stolen. 59

There were still 29,000 Jews in American camps in Austria at the time,
who were given better rations than the other DPs, and unlike the others
they were exempted from work. That this caused resentment is something
of an understatement, especially as the Jews were prominent in the black
market. An Allied report produced a statistic that 71 per cent of Austrians
felt no guilt about the Second World War. On the other side the Jews com¬
plained too. ‘Until you get your things back, you are treated like a beggar.
Once you have them back, nobody remembers that you were ever a
beggar. 0

Resentment of the Jews and their higher rations led to a small riot in
Bad Ischl in the Salzkammergut in the summer of 1947. The issue was the
milk quota. Angry protesters surrounded the hotel that served as the Jewish
DP camp and pelted it with stones: ‘Down with the dirty Jews! Hang the
Jews!’ they shouted. The American authorities acted firmly and one rioter
was sentenced to fifteen years. The sentence was later reduced by General
Keyes. 61

There were also 15,000 Jews in Germany who had survived the geno¬
cide. One of these was Victor Klemperer, who went back to his damaged
but inhabitable house in Dresden dreaming of good wines, food, drives in
his car, visits to the seaside and the cinema. Mostly he cherished the fact of
raw life, of ‘simple survival’. 62 He was one of the 3 per cent of German
Jews who owed his survival to an Aryan spouse. Jews tended to be given
the pick of the jobs in the Russian Zone. A former ‘submarine’, the
machinist Walter Besser, was put in charge of a hospital in 1945. Jewish
leaders emerged from captivity in the concentration camps to found news¬
papers. Josef Rosensaft had been in Bergen-Belsen, where he married the
camp doctor Hadassah Bimko after the war. He founded the first Yiddish
newspaper in the British Zone at Belsen, Undzer Sztyme (Our Voice).
Another was Zalman Grinberg, a doctor from Kovno. He founded the
Yiddish newspaper Undzer Weg (Our Way), first published in October
1945. In the British Zone Hans Frey started the Judisches Gemeindeblattfur
die Nord-Rhein Provinz in Westfalen. Between 1945 and 1948 there were over
200 publications — books and newspapers — published in Yiddish in
Germany. 63

The camps were mostly old barracks buildings, together with some
pukka structures that had been cleared of their German occupants. Quite
a few of them were near or actually located in old concentration camps like

332

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

Bergen-Belsen and Landsberg. Two training camps for Jews were housed in
property that had previously belonged to Julius Streicher and Hermann
Goring. Jewish DPs in the American Sector of Berlin were actually lodged
in the Villa Minou, where the infamous Wannsee Conference had been
held in the first weeks of 1942, and where reports had been delivered on
the progress of the Final Solution. 4

In the main, the camps were not as daunting as they might have seemed
from the outside. They had their own schools and courses in Jewish history,
Hebrew, Zionism and Palestinian geography — once more attesting to the
abandonment of assimilation and the embracing of Zionism in most cases.
Political parties were formed, theatres put on Yiddish classics, and concerts
were given. Groups of singers such as the Happy Boys sang Yiddish songs.
American rabbis were assigned to the camps to look after the spiritual well¬
being of the inmates. 3

One of the most notorious DP camps was Bergen-Belsen. Once the
British had managed to bring down the death rate it was possible to intro¬
duce some degree of comfort into the camp, especially when the inmates
were moved out of the old buildings and into the well-appointed SS bar¬
racks. That took a while. At first witnesses were horrified to see how
dehumanised the former prisoners had become. Many of the Jews were
women, and General Dempsey, commanding the British Second Army,
recalled seeing one ‘standing stark naked washing herself with some issue
soap in water from a tank in which the remains of a child floated’. 66

In theory, at least, the French, Dutch, Russians and Poles in Belsen had
homes to go to. The Jews did not want to go back, they wanted to go for¬
ward. Once the enormity of their suffering was known, they received
special treatment. The British rabbi, Rev. Leslie Hardman, arrived at
Belsen soon after its liberation. On Friday 20 April he conducted the first
Jewish service there, observing Kiddush in the open air. With foreboding he
remained behind to eat some gejilte fisch with the prisoners. The next
morning he woke with excruciating pains and was forced to take to his bed
for forty-eight hours. 67 Hardman witnessed some old-fashioned anti¬
semitism among the British officer corps. One officer exclaimed, ‘Bloody
Jews! Serves them right!’ In general, however, it was more the dehuman¬
ising effect of the war that he observed in the British — they had seen too
much horror to be able to respond any more. 68

Part of the process of recovering was for women to begin to take an
interest in their physical appearance again. One of the doctors working at
Belsen was repeatedly asked by the women whether their beauty would
return. 69 For some it would take a long time: the humiliation that had been

333

ALLIED ZONES

part of the policy of their Nazi torturers had gone too deep. One Red
Cross man recalled asking a woman what her name was and where she
came from. ‘Me . . .’ she replied, ‘no name — only number — no country,
just a Jewess, do you understand? I am only a dog.’ 70 Baths were treated
with suspicion. Some of the women had been in the extermination camps,
and had learned to fear trips to the shower block. The situation was con¬
siderably improved when some old women’s clothes were found to replace
the prison gear and someone discovered a cache of lipstick. In the words of
one of the senior medical officers, ‘It was the action of genius, of sheer
unadulterated brilliance.’ The women were oveijoyed. The same officer
reported seeing a woman dead on a slab still clutching her lipstick. 71

By June the atmosphere was wholly changed at Belsen. When the cam¬
eramen rolled up it reminded a Red Cross woman of ‘a Butlin holiday
camp’. 72 The inmates wanted to know about Zionism and Palestine.
Ironically Hitler had made them better Jews: assimilation was a dead letter.
Even hardened atheists were keen to learn about a religion that had not
been practised for a generation. 73 To inject a little morale, concerts were
given and the likes of Yehudi Menuhin and Benjamin Britten visited. The
women of Belsen rediscovered men. Dancing became popular, although
the women were still little more than skeletons. The camps were not just
culturally fertile. They were productive in human life. After the genetic
experiments of the concentration camps, many Jews feared they were
barren. This proved not to be the case. In 1946 UNRRA reported
between eight and ten thousand pregnancies in the camps, giving the
Jewish camps the highest birth rate in the world. 74

Incidences of antisemitism were comparatively rare, although a Jewish
shopkeeper was threatened in Staubing and locals accused the Jews who
inhabited the old concentration camp in Deggendorf of carrying out
armed robberies. In Munich the Mohlstrasse had its complement ofjewish
shops and there was even a kosher restaurant. 75 The camps had flourishing
black markets that led to one police raid on a camp near Stuttgart. In the
course of the police action a Jew was killed during a dispute about boot¬
leg eggs. After that the police were banned from entering the camps. 76

There were occasional incidences of fury directed at the Germans, but
they were rare. The greatest act of lawlessness committed by the Jews in
post-war Germany was the attempt to kill a large number of POWs in
Nuremberg. Abba Kovner, who had led an armed revolt in the Vilna
Ghetto, founded the Nakom (‘Revenge’) Group and conceived the idea of
poisoning the drinking water in the city. One member of the group found
a job in the waterworks, but David Ben-Gurion refused to allow him to go

334

LIFE IN ALL FOUR ZONES

ahead with the scheme. They turned instead to the camp, where 12,000
POWs were kept, many of them ex-SS or Nazis, and succeeded in poi¬
soning the bread. The prisoners suffered terrible pains, but none died. The
perpetrators fled to Palestine and resisted all attempts to make them face
justice in Germany. 77

The afterlife of the German Jews was a long time fading. Behind barbed
wire they continued their shadowy existence for over a decade. The last
Jewish DP camps closed in 1957.

335

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PART III

Crime and Punishment

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Guilt

We experienced the false indignation of other lemurs who came to the
place of lies to dig up the dead and expose the decomposed bodies; to
measure them, count them and photograph them, as it was their aim.
They played the role of prosecutor only to gain for themselves the right
to base revenge and then to satisfy themselves with similar orgies . . .
The hand that wants to help man in all this, and to lead him forth in
his blindness, must be free from sin and acts of violence.

Ernst Jiinger, Der Friede, Vienna 1949, 21

How Could We Have Known?

if ~ T'he Allies have ceased to threaten us with bombs, now they speak to

_L us like a nanny, one who gets on our nerves with her bony index
finger and her shrill old maid’s voice. You get the feeling of sitting in a
classroom where you are constantly being told off in such a way that even
the best-behaved pupil will after a short while become obstinate.’ 1 Many
Germans reacted to the Allies’ revelations with disbelief. Ursula von
Kardorff met a typical old Nazi woman who dismissed their broadcasts as
so many lies. She simply didn’t want to believe in the atrocity stories.
When they were shown pictures of piles of corpses in Dachau they said
these were pictures of the dead after the Allied bombing raid on Dresden.
Such was the effect of Goebbels’s propaganda. 2 When a Polish Jew told
Kathe von Normann he had escaped the fate of twenty-three members of
his family only by being incarcerated in a Siberian POW camp, the truth
dawned on her. She noted in her diary, ‘What a mess was caused by this
fallacious doctrine!’ and cursed Hitler for not making peace. 3

James Stern found in the course of his interviews in Munich that the
responses to the questions about concentration camps varied. One
working-class man asked him how German Americans were being treated.

339

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Stern replied, ‘With extraordinary fairness’ — something we now know to
be untrue. When faced with the atrocities of the German camps, the man’s
response was measured: if it were true it was ‘die grosste Schweinerei die
es gibt!’ (the most disgusting thing he had ever heard!). A young doctor he
talked to, who came from a rich family, referred to the treatment of the
Jews as a Kulturschande (a national disgrace), but he thought the German
occupation of Russia had been carried out with no more brutality than the
American occupation of Munich. 4

Carl Zuckmayer thought there were relatively few of these Ewig-gestrige
(yesterday’s men) who believed their current situation was all down to the
Allies and that the Germans had done nothing to deserve it. Rare were the
Germans, even in the safety of their broken homes or in the corners of a
dim-lit, ill-heated Kneipe, who rued the hanging of the defendants at
Nuremberg. Most Germans would have rejected the extreme charge of
‘collective guilt’, however, on the ground that there was very little an
individual could have done to stop Hitler’s warmongering and killing even
if he had been fully aware that it was happening. ‘Collective guilt’ was also
changing its meaning with the opening of the concentration camps.
Originally the Germans were all guilty of starting an aggressive war, as their
fathers had been in 1914. Now they had all committed, aided or abetted
mass murder. Ernst Jtinger thought he recognised an Allied agenda: ‘The
thesis of collective guilt has two interwoven skeins. For the conquered it
means “I must atone for my brother’s guilt”, for the victors it affords prac¬
tical support for their indiscriminate looting.’ 5 Some, like the philosopher
Karl Jaspers, however, were prepared to assent to the lesser accusation of
‘general responsibility’. 6

Jaspers in Heidelberg was now the respected voice of post-war German
philosophy. He tackled the subject of German complicity in his post-war
lecture-cum-essay delivered to the medical faculty: ‘The Question of
German Guilt’. Doctors had been especially prominent in acts of atrocity
against the Jews. He defended the necessary evil of the Allied presence:
‘They stop us from becoming bumptious and teach us modesty.’ 7 The
whole world was wagging its finger at Germany. Not just the victors, but
also Germans who had opted for exile. Germans might feel they had other
things to think about. ‘The horizon has become narrow. People don’t
want to hear about guilt or the past. They don’t care about the judgement
of history, all they want is for the suffering to cease . . .’ 8 Jaspers warned,
however, that ‘it is the duty of all us Germans to look clearly at the ques¬
tion of guilt and understand the consequences’. 9

He had lived in Germany during the war. ‘Germany under the Nazi

340

GUILT

regime was a prison. The guilt of falling into this prison is political guilt.
Once the gates were shut, however, a prison break from within was no
longer possible. Any responsibility, any guilt, attributed to the impris¬
oned — whenever it arose — must prompt the question whether there was
anything they could do.’ In a lecture delivered on 15 August, he returned
to the theme, but he was kind to Germany and the Germans: ‘Thousands
of Germans either sought death or were killed anyway because of their
opposition to the regime. The majority of them remain anonymous. We
survivors did not seek death. We did not go out on to the streets when our
Jewish friends were led away, nor did we cry out until they destroyed us as
well. We preferred to stay alive on the weak if justified grounds that our
death would not have helped anyway. That we live is our guilt. We know
before God what deeply humbles us.’ 10

‘The Question of German Guilt’ helped to define a form of orthodoxy
in the early years of the Federal Republic, even if the author himself
thought it the most ‘misconstrued piece of his collected works’. One of
Jaspers’s favourite students had been Hannah Arendt, who had spent the
war years in safety in America. She too tackled the question of guilt in her
book Organised Guilt and Universal Responsibility. Like Jaspers she felt it did
not help to tar all Germans with the same brush. ‘Where all are guilty,
nobody in the last analysis can be judged.’ It was an echo of Jaspers’s own
line that ‘It runs contrary to sensible argument to make a whole nation
guilty of a crime. The criminal is always an individual.’ ‘The collective guilt
of a nation or a group within a nation cannot therefore exist and with the
exception of political responsibility, there is neither criminal, moral nor
metaphysical guilt.’ 11 Joseph Frings, archbishop of Cologne, adopted a simi¬
lar line. As far as the war was concerned, ‘The Fiihrer took such decisions
on his own and at most consulted his closest advisers.’ As regards the atro¬
cities, he maintained that most people had learned about them after the
war, from the BBC: ‘The German people are much more the victims
than the perpetrator of these atrocities.’ 12

Jaspers’s wife Gertrud was a Jew, and, although she was to some extent
protected through her marriage to the prominent intellectual, by the end
of the war she was in hiding. Jaspers nonetheless felt that most of his fellow
countrymen were not evil: ‘Generalisations about the mentalities and
behaviour of millions of Germans in the Nazi era are bound to be of lim¬
ited application — apart, perhaps, from the generalisation that, for the great
mass of the population, the figurative colours to look for are less likely to
be stark black and white than varying and chequered shades of grey.’ 13

Zuckmayer was also fairly indulgent. He believed that the tally of Nazis

34i

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

left in German society lay at around 20 per cent — the ‘blacks’. The ‘whites’
were equally represented, with 60 per cent of Germans being ‘grey’ or
fellow travellers. Around 40 per cent of the ‘greys’ were an acceptable
shade, while another 20 per cent were dark grey, verging on black.
Zuckmayer thought the percentages given would apply to most countries,
and Germany was no worse than them. Thinking back to that time, the lit¬
erary critic Karl-Heinz Bohrer estimates that 70 per cent of Germans were
‘nationalists’ in 1945, which meant that they made common cause with the
Nazis, even if they said they disapproved of them. 14

For everyone who had heard stories ‘from the east’ — transmitted by
relatives in the army who had witnessed atrocities — there were equal num¬
bers of ordinary Germans who genuinely knew nothing. One who merely
suspected that terrible things were being done was Gertrud Jaspers - who
might have experienced the horrors at first hand had the authorities been
able to prise her away from her husband. The Allied revelations came as a
profound shock to her; they painted a picture she had never imagined. 15

Re-education through Propaganda

James Stern ran into the American propaganda campaign soon after arriv¬
ing in Bad Nauheim. He observed the groups of Germans huddled in front
of a billboard. At first they were silent, then they began to shake their heads
and walk away, but it was no good — the poster was everywhere. ‘Who is
guilty?’ it read. Beneath those words were a number of photographs show¬
ing human skeletons, charred bones, prisoners in uniform hanging from
gibbets and children dead from starvation. This poster was to be seen
throughout the zone.

According to Stern, no German commented. Some moaned, one or
two stifled a cry, but generally they looked on in silence before moving
away. Another poster in the series answered the question posed by the first:
‘This town is guilty! You are guilty!’ 16 Others report that, despite the
propaganda posters, the Final Solution was very little discussed in the
1940s or 1950s, possibly because images of slaughtered children aroused
memories of the Allied bombing campaign which was still fresh in German
minds. The Western Allies failed to pursue their quarry after the first cam¬
paign. That would fit with the diminishing enthusiasm for trial and
denazification. By 1948 it had fizzled out. 17

The most famous propaganda film of all was the Movietone footage shot
at Belsen by the British cameraman Paul Wyand. Even today it remains the

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most powerful account of the abuse of human life and dignity in the Nazi
camps. Wyand turned up at Belsen on 23 April 1945. It is not clear
whether the film was intended as propaganda from the outset, or whether
Wyand and his crew were there to record what the British were doing to
save lives. Wyand interviewed a number of inmates and guards. The latter
were humiliated and made to pose in front of heaps of bodies. Dr Fritz
Klein, who had been involved in selection at Auschwitz, had been bury¬
ing bodies for a week. Wyand worked with a Polish interpreter. Klein, who
was already half insane from the work he had been forced to do, gave an
incorrect answer to a question. When the interpreter relayed this to
Wyand, the British beat him with rifle butts. Klein was then filmed in a pit
filled with corpses. Sometimes the film had the wrong effect. People found
it hard to cope. Alfred Karzin saw it in a cinema in Londons Piccadilly:
‘many laughed’. 18

Doubts were expressed about the use of such grotesque images, but one
writer has raised the valid point that where we have no pictures we find the
slaughter intangible, and easier to forgive. There are, for example, few
revealing pictures of the Soviet camps, or of the fate of their victims. 19
There were mixed reactions in America. One obvious target was the large
German American population of the Mid-West. Joseph Pulitzer from St
Louis was one of them. He insisted that the city’s Kiel (sic) Auditorium be
festooned with photo-murals taken from the camps. Others, such as James
Agee in the Nation of 19 May 1945, were unconvinced. Agee refused to
look at the pictures and questioned their propaganda role, which was to
prepare the American people for an ‘extremely hard peace against
Germany’. The pictures elicited another protest from Milton Mayer in the
Progressive who spoke of a Carthaginian peace and said ‘vengeance won’t
raise the tortured dead’. 20

Meanwhile the camps had become the object of a ghoulish voyeurism.
The former prisoners continued to die in droves (200 a day in
Mauthausen), while journalists, congressmen, senators and soldiers paraded
around the huts. At Buchenwald tours began with the iron hook and the
crematorium before visitors saw the macabre collection of tattooed-skin
lampshades, shrunken heads and pickled organs apparently put together by
Ilse Koch. Dead bodies were left around for days for the visitors to see. A
tour of a concentration camp became part of the ‘ritual of exorcism and
revelation in the occupied Germany of late April and early May 1945’.
Typical was the reaction of Representative John Vorys who visited the
Little Camp at Buchenwald and saw what appeared to be ‘absent-minded
apes. Many were professors, doctors, writers or generals . . . They had

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preserved their spirits and had not sunk mentally to the bestial level of their
living.’ 21

The Ministry of Information, as the British called their propaganda
ministry, were anxious to make as much as they could from the opportun¬
ities offered by Belsen. They brought in the local mayors from Celle and
elsewhere and showed them the pit full of bodies. SS men and women
stood on the other side of the trench and a German-speaking officer read
out an indictment. Wyand’s cameramen recorded the moment. One of the
mayors wept, another was sick. 22

The Fragebogen and Denazification

The Fragebogen

The Americans were hell-bent on purging the Nazi evil from the German
body politic. Their policy for Germany was constructed on the adamantine
plinth ofJCS 1067, Clause 6 of which deemed the foremost requirement
to be denazification as a punitive measure. The Joint Chiefs of Staff had
drawn up the document in wartime, but it had received the support of
Roosevelt, who was wallowing in Teutonophobia. As ever, the British
limped after the Americans. The French and the Russians went their own
ways. 23 With its desire to impose a ‘peace of punishment’, JCS 1067 was
Morgenthau’s last legitimate child and survived long after Truman formally
relinquished the Plan. It proposed to tear down, rather than rebuild, and to
help Germans only when it was necessary to avoid disease or disorder. JCS
1067 was responsible for the inhumane approach of the Americans and to
some extent had a knock-on effect on the British in the first months of
occupation. There were modifications, however, in that JCS 1067 allowed
for some industrial activity in the conquered nation. To surrender to the
Americans — as most Germans actively strove to do — was ‘a lottery ticket’.
At best you might be released before all the other POWs, at worst you
might die in the Rhine Meadow mud. JCS 1067 policy was largely over¬
turned by Clay, who was ‘very nearly an independent sovereign’ in his
German house. Clay rapidly came round to the idea that the best way to
succeed was to allow the Germans to govern themselves. 24

The chief instruments of denazification were the Fragebogen or ques¬
tionnaires. They were also the first attempts on the part of the Americans
to quantify National Socialism and exclude former Nazis from public life.
One American writer questioned the legal foundation of denazification,
calling it a ‘Nazi or communist concept of jurisprudence’. 25 As many as

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thirteen million forms were printed and handed out either to those with
dubious pasts or to Germans who were looking for employment. The
number corresponded roughly to the number of Pgs. Ursula von Kardorff
was subjected to a prototype of the Fragebogen as early as 7 May 1945, the
day the Germans capitulated. Captain Herrell, the commandant in
Giinzburg, brought out something that looked like a book: he wanted to
know if the women had been in the Party or the Frauenschaft (Nazi
womens league). She hadn’t known there were so many organisations, and
the officer reminded her of the Gestapo. 26

Margret Boveri got her first glimpse of the form on 5 June 1945, and
thought the vetting system of her new lords and masters much more com¬
plicated that the Nazi one. The questionnaire consisted of twelve pages and
133 questions. It had been handed out to a crowd of doctors to determine
if they had belonged to Nazi organisations. If they had, they were banned
from practice. Ruth Friedrich saw the form at the same time. It asked a
number of questions she could no longer answer with any certainty: how
she voted in 1932, the numbers of her bank and post office accounts as well
as those of close relations: ‘Is one supposed to commit peijury because one
has a bad memory?’ 27

Some of their Allied tormenters had sympathy for the Germans’
wounded pride. Stern read through the Fragebogen and was struck by its
‘peculiar German’. He ‘wondered how on earth . . . [he] would answer
some of these vague, some unintentionally humorous queries’. The Allies
wanted to know, for example, whether the bombing had affected the
interviewee’s health, work or sleep. Information was demanded about
insurance and indemnity claims, and more questions about sewage, elec¬
tricity and drainage. At a house in Munich’s Planetta Strasse, Stern
interviewed a thirteen-year-old girl and an eighty-eight-year-old man who
was ‘quite gaga’. One blind man came to the interview accompanied by his
wife, who was almost completely deaf, an affliction she shared with her
husband. Stern discovered that many Germans had been temporarily deaf¬
ened by the bombing. The names had been drawn at random, ‘a la
Gallup’. 28 The idea that all Germans were to be questioned in this way,
even those who had been in concentration camps, provoked another out¬
burst of fury from Kurt Schumacher: ‘we want a just and objective
examination of the facts’, he said in Kiel in the autumn of 1945. 29

Ursula von Kardorff had to wait until the end of July. She was outraged
by the 148 (sic) questions asked: how much you weighed, scars, distin¬
guishing features, religion (and whether you had quit the Church), titles of
nobility, earnings, whether you had worked in an occupied territory. The

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question about scars was to determine whether you had been a member of
one of the wicked duelling fraternities, but they had been banned by
Hitler. She found the question about how she had voted particularly
absurd: firstly because it was so easy to lie and secondly because Germans
were being told that the secret ballot was one of the foundation stones of
democracy. In the end they found the form so comic that it put them all
in a good mood: ‘in the old days it was having a Jewish grandmother that
caused problems, now it is having a noble one. And what has the colour of
my eyes got do with my political opinions?’ 30

No one escaped. Jtinger came home in early September 1945 to find
one on his desk. It was marked with the warning ‘False information will
result in prosecution by the courts of the military government.’ 31 Had he
known that Bishop Graf Galen, whose sermons had been dropped from
British aircraft as propaganda, was also required to fill in the form, he
might have felt relieved. 32 Injiinger’s literary world, anyone who did not
leave and take up residence abroad like the famous Thomas Mann was
treated with the utmost suspicion by the Western Allies. One case was
Erich Kastner, author of Emil and the Detectives. He had been banned from
writing under the Third Reich, but that cut no ice with the interroga¬
tors. 33 One of the most bizarre examples of the American insistence on the
Fragebogen was when Emmy Goring was required to fill one in. She, her
daughter and her sister were all in Straubing Prison at the time. Her hus¬
band was awaiting trial at Nuremberg.

One of the questions was: ‘Did you have a relative or a close friend in the
Party with a high position in the Third Reich?’

‘Yes, my husband, Hermann Goring,’ I wrote.

‘What post did he have?'

‘He was not in the SS. But the SA. He was Reichsmarschall , master hunts¬
man, Commander in Chief of the Luftwaffe . . .’

I tried to remember his other titles and ended up by sighing.

‘Why are you sighing like that?’ asked an American.

‘I can’t remember my husband’s titles any more.’

‘Don’t worry. Just write: Hermann Goring. We’ve got enough informa¬
tion on him already.’ 34

The nature of the questions on the form gave a fair indication of the sort
of things (besides Nazism) that were offensive to the Allied Military
Government. One thing they wanted to know was whether the inter¬
viewee had ever hoped for a German victory. Margret Boveri was not slow
to point out that in other countries to hope for defeat would be classically
construed as treason. After May 1945 it was quite wrong to believe in

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German victory, but was it so bad in 1939, or 1940? It recalled the line of
Talleyrand, who said treason was a question of dates. 35

The question that had incensed Ursula von Kardorff was nobility, as
enshrined in Question 18. The captain injettingen showed her a memoran¬
dum in which American soldiers were told how to sniff out a wicked Junker:
find out if he had a potato schnapps distillery on his estate. The form required
you to state whether you or your wife, your father, mother, wife’s father and
mother, or either of your grandparents had belonged to an ennobled family.
Antiquity of lineage was clearly synonymous with political unreliability and
the Junkers in particular were accused of having helped in Hitlers rise to
power; and yet, of the people who had taken active steps to dispose of Hider
and his regime — particularly on 20 July 1944 — a very high proportion had
been nobles, Junkers in particular. In the winter of 1945—6 the supposition that
nobility and Nazi were in some way at one contributed to the lack of fuel. As
an American interrogator told John Dos Passos, all the foresters had been
sacked because of Question 18: ‘von This and von That, big time Nazis, every
one’. The Fragebogen was the absolute authority, the litmus test. Another offi¬
cer told Dos Passos ‘It’s the Fragebogen. The Fragebogen is the best thing in
Germany . . . If they get past this, they can hold any job they want.’ 36

Question 25 was concerned with membership of a student corps. The
author of the Fragebogen was possibly unaware that the famous student
Burschenschaften had been suspended at the end of 1935 and not revived
until after 1945. The first nail in their coffin had been a drunken student
at Heidelberg who had rung Hitler’s adjutant to ask him to ask the Fiihrer
the correct way to eat asparagus. Hitler was not amused. Not only did
pranks of this sort thenceforth go under the name of ‘Spargelessen’ or
asparagus eating, all secret meetings of old members of the fraternities
became de facto acts of opposition. Later on they proved recruiting grounds
for the July Plotters. 37

The Allies were obsessed with the need to stamp out ‘militarism’, and
any connection with the armed forces was held against the supplicant. A
joke ran round that one of the questions on the form was ‘Did you play
with toy soldiers as a child? If so, what regiment?’ 38 The real Question 32
also went wide of the mark. It demanded to know if the applicant had been
a member of the General Staff. The German staff officer, with carmine
stripes on his trousers, was the intellectual of the army. In 1939 there were
824 of them, of whom 600 served in staff positions. Of these 359 were dead
by 1945: 149 had been killed in action, 10 had died of natural causes and
143 were missing. There had been sixteen suicides, mostly in the aftermath
of the July Plot, while another twenty-four had been executed for their

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part in the conspiracy. All in all some sixty staff officers were arrested as a
result of the attempt on Hitlers life — that is, io per cent. The names
included Stauffenberg and Colonel Merz von Quirnheim who both died
on the night, together with Colonel General Beck. Others who were exe¬
cuted were Field Marshal von Witzleben and Generals von Stiilpnagel,
Olbricht and Hoepner. General Staff officers such as the former army
chiefs Hammerstein and Fritsch had also been opponents of Hitler and his
war plans. 39 The General Staff officer was liable to immediate arrest. He
was seen as the symbol of German militarism, and the Western Allies did
not want his expertise put at the disposal of the Soviets. On 22 June Radio
Hamburg broadcast a speech by Bernard Montgomery saying that all
General Staff officers would be imprisoned for life in special camps outside
Germany. 40

The problem remained that it was only once the properly completed
questionnaire had been returned and vetted that a German could return to
normal life. Until then he was in a sort of purgatory that left him outside
the law. If you wanted to get on, you faced the ‘inquisition’ and filled in
the form with its ‘sometimes stupid questions’, otherwise you were out of
work and deprived of ration tickets. If you were not careful, you were
declared a war criminal to boot. 41

Denazification

The American policy was to locate the least objectionable German
and give him the work, but insufficient zeal in denazification could still
result in important heads falling. Membership of any Nazi Party-affiliated
institution was enough to have you banned from office. The American-
appointed minister president of Bavaria, Fritz Schaffer, was a known
anti-Nazi, but the Americans sacked him because he did not hate all
Nazis, and allowed some of them to figure in his administration. Another
who fell from grace was General Patton, who had the temerity — indeed
folly - to say that the ‘Nazi thing is just like a Democrat—Republican elec¬
tion fight’. He was relieved of his command. Elsewhere Patton’s approach
had been attractively pragmatic: ‘we shall need these Germans’ was his
line, and it turned out to be prophetic. 43 The future German president
Theodor Heuss urged restraint. He thought that only 10 to 15 per cent of
Nazis were in any way dangerous, and that the Americans were too strict:
‘only he who has lived twelve years under the Nazi terror can judge how
enormous this pressure was and how much heroism and political insight
were required to resist it’. 43 All hints of what Germany had been over the

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previous twelve years were to be expunged. In one town hall Dos Passos
noted the gaps where the pictures of past mayors had been hung. When
he asked why, he was told they wore the Geflugel (the fowl): the Nazi
Party badge. 44

The right way to denazify Germany was not generally agreed between
East and West, and even the Western Allies had their fall-outs. The British
were lukewarm, but in their sector of Berlin there was a little show of
strength. One of George Clare’s first experiences in the city was interpret¬
ing for a British officer who was determined to keep a fire chief in office
despite his Nazi past. He wanted efficient firemen, and he couldn’t give a
damn about the man’s past. The only problem was that the other firemen
were social democrats who had been persecuted by the Nazis and for that
reason would not tolerate having one in their midst. 45 In the Ruhr all the
mining engineers were dismissed as Nazis. Then there were explosions that
claimed hundreds of lives — including British — and General Templer
decided that Military Government had been foolish. 46

Clare’s office might have been feared by Berlin Nazis, but in general no
one worried too much about the British, and visitors to their zone
reported pro-Nazi graffiti they did not see elsewhere. The British attitude
was allegedly not to disturb the status quo and to use re-education where
possible. The results were not deemed successful in retrospect. 47 The fig¬
ures, however, do not always bear this out. By September 1946 there were
66,500 Nazis interned in the American Zone, and 70,000 in the British. 4 ' 5
In Nordrhein-Westfalen alone two and a half million cases were examined.
The mill ground very fine and many of these men, and some women, were
kept under lock and key and in terrible conditions for years. In general,
however, they were either released at the end, or given a trifling punish¬
ment. The British had their own problems at home to worry about.
Denazification was hardly their top priority. Around 80 per cent of Nazis
were exonerated. By that time even the Americans had lost their enthusi¬
asm and there were only 200 of them working in Public Safety, assisted by
around thirty-five foreigners. They could not hope to be able to sift the
evidence and they had no co-operation from the Russians whatsoever. 49

The Russians were firm believers in collective guilt and any German
was liable for punishment, even death. They set the Germans to work and
gave them as little as they could to sustain life. They investigated half a mil¬
lion cases in their zone, around 3 per cent of the population, and, as in
Austria, the Pgs were not allowed to vote in the various elections held in
1946. By 1948 they too had lost interest and ended the purge. 50 The
French attitude lay somewhere between the British and the Russians: it was

349

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less a question of guilt than ‘should this man play a role in public life or
should he not?’ 51

One of the problems facing the Allies was the scale of the work before
them. With twelve million Pgs in their midst it became clear after a while
that their original ferocity would be tempered with time and that a lot of
small fry would swim free. The Germans, for their part, were more used to
the methods used by the Gestapo or the NKVD and assumed that, once
caught, they were for the high jump. Allied Military Courts, on the other
hand, were snowed under with Nazis waiting to know their fates. 52

Denazification was a fact of life for all Germans, even dead ones who
had been hanged for their part in the plot to kill Hitler. In 1949 Charlotte
von der Schulenburg had yet to receive her widow’s pension and was
having difficulty providing for her children by Fritz-Dietlof. The problem
was that her husband had been an early member of the Party, having
joined in 1932, a fact that ‘was clearly more important than anything that
he did afterwards’. 53 Four years after the end of the war Charlotte had to
go before a tribunal in Hanover to fight her late husband’s corner.

She sat on a bench outside the court waiting for her case to be called.
Next to her were Jews and gypsies seeking recognition as victims of the
Nazi state. She defended her husband’s memory bravely, clutching
telegrams from Annedore Leber and Gustav Dahrendorf, but the problem
was that a Prussian bureaucrat who had been condemned to death, in the
same way as a common murderer, could not expect a pension for his wife.
The law had to be changed before Charlotte could have her pension. She
did not receive any money until 1952, and that was due to her as the
widow of a Third Reich Regierungsprasident — the president of an admin¬
istrative district. 54

There was a joke doing the rounds (a variant of it is still told in Vienna): a
man comes into a police station and tells the officer that he wishes to reg¬
ister as a Nazi. The policeman replies that he should have done that a year
and a half ago. The man tells the policeman, ‘Eighteen months ago I
wasn’t a Nazi!’

Dos Passos cites an interview with an American lieutenant whose busi¬
ness it was to interrogate Nazis. ‘My people are Jewish ... so don’t think
I’m not bitter against the Krauts. I’m for shooting the war criminals where
we can prove they are guilty and getting it over with. But for God’s sake,
tell me what we are trying to do?’ The lieutenant continued, ‘Hatred is like
a fire. You’ve got to put it out. I’ve been interrogating German officers for
the War Crimes Commission and when I find them half-starved to death

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right in our own PW cages and being treated like you wouldn’t treat a dog,
I ask myself some questions . . . Brutality is more contagious than typhus
and a hell of a lot more difficult to stamp out . . He mentioned Patton
and his habit of putting his foot in it, but he clearly approved. ‘All those
directives about don’t coddle the German have thrown open the gates for
every criminal tendency we’ve got in us.’ 55 The American hatred for the
Germans continued to astound many people. Dos Passos met an eastern
European in Berlin who spoke to him in French. The man asked him,
‘why do you Americans feel this desire for vengeance? I can understand it
in the Russians, who suffered fearful injuries, but your cities were not laid
waste, your wives and children were not starved and murdered.’ Dos Passos
did not have an answer. 56

For Zuckmayer there was a fundamental error behind the denazification
policy: it failed to create a belief in a state of law because it failed to dif¬
ferentiate between the innocent and the guilty. The ideal liberation should
have come about through a revolution within Germany It was not going
to be possible to clean up Germany by pushing a large number of its citi¬
zens before the courts. There were too many cases, and the witnesses were
in many instances unreliable, as they knew they would come under the
microscope themselves and the most important thing was to deny every¬
thing. The accused were protected — there was evidence of nepotism and
intimidation. Denunciations were frequently made out of sheer bloody-
mindedness and there were too few judges and lawyers around who were
free from guilt.

The courts themselves had a hopeless task. In one Bavarian district
Zuckmayer was told there were 11,850 former Nazis who were due to be
examined by the Spruchkammer. The president of the chamber estimated
that it was going to take between eleven and twelve years to acquit the
work. In Stuttgart there were around 80,000 cases. Zuckmayer saw a
danger of renazification as the suspects were forced to mark time before
their cases came up for review. He was for a wide-ranging amnesty for the
small fry, who were implicated in no particular crime other than oppor¬
tunism or ideological commitment.

Zuckmayer gives an example of a minor case — a midwife who had her
husband sent to Dachau for two years because he had had an affair with a
young girl in the factory where he worked. He later threw a bust of her
beloved Adolf out of the window, enabling her to denounce him. When
her case came up the husband made a plea in mitigation. She had helped
non-Aryans and delivered their children without question and had even
waived payment in certain cases. She was a good midwife and performed

35i

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

a service to society. If she had committed a crime it was out of passion. She
had also been sufficiently punished: she had lost the man she loved because
of the Hitler bust. The judge accepted the plea, and let her off with a fine,
and allowed her to continue working as a midwife. 57

Franz von Papen, a former chancellor who had become a Nazi minis¬
ter and ambassador, had never been a member of the Party. He had been
acquitted at Nuremberg. A new trial was arranged for January 1947. He
was to face a panel of seven judges: two Social Democrat lawyers and five
members of democratic parties. The seven included two Jews. Bavaria’s
minister for denazification called on the court to sentence Papen to ten
years’ hard labour on the basis of his having profited from Nazism. Papen
was given eight. His property was confiscated and he was deprived of his
civic rights. 58 Schacht, who was tried at Nuremberg alongside Papen, had
an ingenious way of wriggling out of responsibility for the crimes of the
Third Reich. A paper was produced that had been written at the time of
the takeover of the Austrian National Bank by the Reichsbank, of which
he was then president. It was a hymn of praise to the God-given Fiihrer
written by none other than Schacht. The banker was asked to comment:
how did he find it? ‘I find it excellent!’ said Schacht. He told the tribunal
what clever ‘deception’ ( Tanning) it was. 59

The wives of the leading Nazis were put through a predictably humili¬
ating trial. After leaving Straubing Prison, Emmy Goring was living in a
hut near her husband’s castle at Veldenstein in Franconia. She was suffer¬
ing from sciatica and had a high fever. She was nonetheless incarcerated in
a rat-infested prison for two weeks along with the wives of Hess, Funk and
Baldur von Schirach. The brides of Speer, Donitz, Neurath and Raeder,
on the other hand, were spared this indignity, although Speer’s wife
Margarete was closer to Hitler than any of them, with the exception of
Henriette von Schirach who was the daughter of his hard-drinking court
photographer Heinrich Hoffmann. As it was, Frau Goring was able to
muster a good deal of testimony from Jews that she had helped them over
the years, even if she clearly disappointed the president of the tribunal by
failing to denounce her dead husband. She was classified ‘Group 2’ and
allowed to return to her hovel. 60

Another high-profile case was the English-born daughter-in-law of
Richard Wagner, Winifred. There was no doubt that ‘Winnie’ was besot¬
ted with her ‘Wolf’ — as she and her four children called Hitler — but after
1940 the Fiihrer had avoided her. One of her grandchildren has even gone
so far as to say that she had wanted to marry Hitler, and that with her at his
side there would have been no war. 61 Hitler kept away from Bayreuth,

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although he continued to see three of the four Wagner children (the eldest
girl, Friedelind, emigrated to Switzerland and the United States, where she
fanned the flames against her mother) and exempted the first son, Wieland,
from military service as the heir to Bayreuth.

The Wagners all had questions to answer. Verena’s husband Bodo
Lafferenz had been in charge of the Kraft durch Freude Nazi leisure organ¬
isation, and as such had held high rank in the SS. Fie was shipped off to an
internment camp in Freiburg. Wolfgang had not been a Party member and
could take refuge behind that fact, even if he had been entertained by
Flitler and had been as close to him as the others. Party member Wieland
had made himself scarce at the Americans’ approach, hiding in the French
Zone until the coast was clear. He had been administering the town’s
‘concentration camp’ — an outside station of the more notorious
Flossenblirg housing a few score inmates who were involved in technical
research for the SS. He never mentioned his closeness to the regime in his
remaining years, and set himself up as a hero of a debunking, cultural
revolution in Bayreuth. His designs were meant to clear his grandfather’s
operas of all their nationalist trappings, and as such they represent a major
instance of the cultural and artistic purge of the arts that followed the
Second World War. The Spruchkammer branded Wieland a ‘fellow trav¬
eller’. His mother took the rap.

The Americans entered Bayreuth after reducing a third of the town to
rubble — including much of Wagner’s home, Wahnfried, though not the
house of the master’s son, Siegfried, which had been called the Fiihrerbau
because it was made over to Hitler for his use during his visits to the festi¬
val. The Americans moved into the opera house on the Green Hill and
created havoc playing jazz on Wagner’s and Liszt’s pianos. Winifred insisted
that most of the damage was done by ‘coloured’ American GIs, who
looted the theatre and shot up the sets with their revolvers. They also
amused themselves by dressing up in the operatic costumes. Another story
has it that German refugees stole the costumes, and for miles around you
could see people fleeing Bayreuth dressed as characters from Wagner
operas. The American authorities promptly banned the playing of Wagner’s
music . 2

Winifred took on the role of the unrepentant Nazi, although she had
performed numerous acts of intercession with the Party to save the lives of
Jews and others who had fallen foul of the regime. Almost the first
‘Americans’ she received were Thomas Mann’s son Klaus, and Curt Riess,
reporting for the army newspaper, the Stars and Stripes. The two Germans
in American uniform were getting used to hearing that no one had been

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aware of the atrocities carried out by the regime, and that everyone had
been against Hitler and was proud to possess a ‘“non-Aryan” granny’.
Winifred therefore came as a surprise. First of all she insisted on speaking
English to the freshly baked Americans — and was rather more proficient
than they were. She made no bones about her friendship with Hitler. She
praised his charm, his sense of humour and his good looks. This came
from the heart, although she later admitted that she could not resist the
temptation to rile the Germans in their borrowed clothes. Mann retired
bruised.

The interview brought Winifred Wagner new fame. More reporters
pitched up at her house in the Fichtelgebirge. Some wanted to know if she
had slept with Hitler. She said no. She told them that Hitler had been
misled by Bormann. She clearly possessed a ‘stuff and nonsense’ charm, and
had seen enough of the Third Reich and its puffed-up officials to know
how to deal with a few army interrogators. With time she won the con¬
querors round. One reason was her command of English, which made her
an important source of information for the occupying forces. 63

Meanwhile Thomas Mann had weighed in from his exile in America,
publishing his reasons for not returning to Germany. He attacked those
who had continued to pursue an artistic life under Hitler. One who felt
that he was being indicted was Emil Preetorius, who had designed some of
the most famous sets for Bayreuth, and whose anti-Nazi views and friend¬
ship with Jews had not only been well known but had put him in danger.
Mann gave no credence to the idea of‘inner emigration’ as expounded by
Preetorius and others. Preetorius s message to Mann was ‘My dear friend,
you have no idea of the sorcery of terror.’ It was an argument forcefully put
forward by Furtwangler when he asked Mann why he felt that Germans
should have been deprived of the solace of Beethoven during the years of
the Third Reich. 64

Furtwangler’s humiliation began on n December 1946 in the
Spruchkammer in the Schliiterstrasse in Berlin. This was run by the British
major Kaye Sely as head of the Information Services Control Intelligence
Section. His attitude to denazification was generally more indulgent than
that of most gentiles, but it was not going to help Furtwangler much. The
first session of the Spruchkammer lasted for five hours before it was
adjourned so that more witnesses could be called. Heinz Tietjen, who had
abandoned his lover Winifred Wagner to her fate, once again played a ques¬
tionable role. Now he attempted to cover up for his intrigues at the
Lindenoper. He had had enough of the vain Furtwangler and sought to
promote the equally vain but considerably more ambitious Karajan. He

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GUILT

became Goebbels s stooge in his campaign to discredit the older conduc¬
tor. 65 Furtwangler meanwhile expressed his astonishment at his treatment
considering that he was the only member of the musical establishment to
have actively opposed Hitler.*

In words reminiscent of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Furtwangler said, ‘You
have to work with the regime in order to work against it . . . Emigration
would have been a more comfortable solution in any case.’ The Western
Allies had plenty of dirt to throw at the conductor. Much of it centred on
the critic Edwin von der Null, who had made unflattering comparisons
between Furtwangler and Karajan, and whom the former had contrived to
have sent to the front, where he perished. Niill had been a pawn of
Goebbels. Furtwangler’s defence had been limp, and the conclusion of the
day was to direct the case to the Allied Kommandatura. Those who had
hoped to be able to hear the conductor perform the Eroica the next day
were to be disappointed. 66

Behind the scenes there was the constant clamour of the emigres who
were determined to see the conductor as a cultural figurehead for the
Nazis. Chief among them was Erika Mann. His old rival Toscanini also
played a prominent role. Furtwangler had sealed his fate with many Jewish
Americans when in 1936 he had been offered the position of principal
conductor of the New York Philharmonic but chose to direct the orches¬
tra of the Berlin State Opera instead. Once again he had been a victim of
Nazi intrigue. News had been leaked to the press in order to compromise
him with the New Yorkers. 67

The Americans led the way with denazification, trying 169,282 cases. The
Russians and the French weighed in at around 10 per cent of that figure at
18,328 and 17,353 respectively. 68 The British seemed to show very little
interest in the matter within their zone, handling a little over 1 per cent of
the American cases, at 2,296. Clay had full belief in the process and thought
the Allies were doing well. On 5 July 1945 he reported that denazification
in the early ‘liberated’ cities of Aachen and Cologne was virtually com¬
plete. In Bavaria and Wurttemberg, however, it was going very slowly. In
March 1948, the Russians made a point of releasing 35,000 minor Nazis
from their camps. 9

Clay had bagged 75,000 Nazis to date. Certain organisations were par¬
ticularly thick with them. He estimated that the police administration was
100 per cent Nazi; the ‘Kripos’ or criminal police 60 per cent; the others

* He had forgotten Erich Kleiber.

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CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

40 per cent.* In the banking world of Frankfurt half those employed were
Nazis; that meant 326 people. On the other hand the docility of the post¬
war Germans struck Clay as it did everyone else: the ‘German masses
seem totally apolitical, apathetic and primarily concerned with [the] every¬
day problems of food, clothing and shelter’. They did not quite behave as
he expected them to: ‘no general feeling of war guilt or repugnance for
Nazi doctrine and regime has manifested itself. Germans blame Nazis for
losing war, protest ignorance of regime’s crimes and shrug off their own
support as incidental and unavoidable.’ 70

Clay continued bagging Nazis. In autumn 1945 he had 80,000 in the
bag plus the same number of Waffen-SS and ‘Schupos’ — members of the
Security Police who were interned with the POWs. On top of these he
had around 75,000 Germans sacked because of their Nazi past, and 9,500
from financial institutions. 71 On 8 December the number of imprisoned
Nazis in the American Zone had risen to 90,000, and was to reach 100,000
by the end of the year. Another 25,000 members of paramilitary organisa¬
tions were lodged with the POWs. 72 It is not clear whether or not most of
the SS men had been released. Certainly, most of the Nazis had been
released by the summer of 1948. Clay admitted to holding 5,000 prisoners
at that time, with some 25,000 more awaiting trial outside the camps.
They were all hard-core cases. In September 1947 he turned his mind to
the German scientists who had been taken to the US in Operation
Paperclip, to work on the atom bomb and the rocket programme. In his
opinion they should not have been exempt from trial. 73

On 13 May 1946 Control Council Order Four was passed. All literature
of a Nazi or militarist nature was to be confiscated. Clay was not impressed.
Fie had, by his own admission, been banning and confiscating such books
since the arrival of the Americans in Germany. He was particularly keen to
replace school textbooks from the era of the Third Reich. It was an under¬
standable measure, but taken to extremes it could only lead to absurd
situations and scenes reminiscent of the Nazi book burnings when over-
zealous local councils decided to expurgate their library collections. 4 It also
furthered the confusion — which reigned at the heart of the Control
Council — that Nazism and ‘Prussianisin’ were intimately related. 74

Clay played the game while he was at the helm. In 1948 the Cold War
was coming and JCS 1067 was replaced by the less stringent JCS 1779,
which advocated economic unity and self-government. Clay was replaced

* Given that at a national level the police was gleichgeschaltet, or incorporated in the SS, Clay’s
figures seem conservative,
f See below p. 508.

356

GUILT

by his deputy, John McCloy. Times had changed and the former banker
was more interested in building a bridge to the Germans. His wife Ellen
came in useful in all this: she was German, and a distant cousin of
Adenauer’s second wife. 75 McCloy himself went to Canossa: he paid a call
on Frings and promised the prelate that he would review the sentences
passed on German war criminals. The Americans began to release them in
droves in 1949 in the interests of good relations with Adenauers govern¬
ment. 76

Seen as an exercise in punishing criminals, denazification was a farce. A
number of insignificant Pgs were treated with the utmost cruelty while the
big fish went free. Most of the minor cases were not ideologically com¬
mitted anyway. Some of the worst killers, those who sent thousands to their
deaths, who carried out the executions in the east as members of police
units, or who operated the trains which took Jews to the death camps in
the General Gouvernement, were not punished at all; they retired from the
police or the railways without anyone having called them to account, and
died in their beds.

Nazis in the Austrian Woodwork

In Berlin, the Viennese George Clare was keeping an eye on Herbert von
Karajan. He was well aware of the conductors Nazi past. The impresario
Walter Legge came to see them in the Schliiterstrasse to enquire about his
status, as he wanted to know if he was permitted to give concerts in
Britain. He had been denazified in Vienna, but as Sely told him, ‘we
always discount Austrian denazification’. Sely later sent Clare off to inves¬
tigate, giving him the address of the British theatre and music officer Peter
Joseph Schnabel — otherwise known as ‘MacSchnabel’ from his dandified
ways and the fact that he had once performed the role of teaching the
Cameron Highlanders to ski.

Clare found a room in the Park Hotel in Hietzing, a stone’s throw from
British Army HQ in Schonbrunn, where his murdered parents had spent
their honeymoon. He met Schnabel at Demel’s coffee house by the
Hofburg. The Austrian Jew was doing a tour of the tables, kissing the hands
of the local ladies. It soon dawned on Clare that Allied culture boffins were
even more firmly wedded to the local terrain in Vienna than were those in
Berlin: there was Schnabel and ‘George’ the Frenchman, whose Danubian
accent gave him away. Also ‘one of us’ was the US captain Ernst
Haussennann, who was deputising for another — Ernst Lothar. Finally the

357

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Russian representative dashed into the meeting late, and bearing a parcel.
She had a ‘sweet’ excuse in her hand: it was a Sachertorte. Her name was
Lily Wichmann, another Viennese.

Denazification was not a big issue for any of them. For a start Austria
had had its own government from the beginning — a privilege granted to
the ‘first victim’. The armies of occupation were there to enjoy themselves,
and that meant music. It would have been a shame, according to Clare, to
lock up decent musicians. He looked up a former corporal in the Pioneer
Corps who had risen to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. The colonel invited
him to the British Officers’ Club in the Palais Kinsky. Clare was shocked
to see how much the Austrians had buried the past. Pure German
Hochdeutsch was now out of fashion: everyone did their best to speak in a
sing-song Austrian dialect, and men donned Styrian hats and suits, and
women dirndls, to assert the cultural differences that occurred once you
crossed the little River Inn. 77

Yet there was still the problem of what to do with the Nazis who so
openly contradicted Austria’s pose. The Figl government drew up a
National Socialist Law which was passed by the federal parliament on 24
July 1946 in the belief that it was in keeping with Allied demands for
denazification. It was not: the Russians in particular found it too lenient
and the Americans wanted automatic prosecution at the level of
Untersturmfiihrer — that is, a second lieutenant in the SS. The Allies
made around 200 changes. The American minister, Erhardt, went so far as
to suggest the creation of‘concentration camps’ for Nazis. 78 These already
existed in the British Zone.* It was finally adopted on 7 February 1947.
Under this law Nazis were divided into two groups according to the power
they yielded during the Third Reich. For war criminals there was a special
jurisdiction. The categories were similar to those employed in the
American Zone in Germany: ‘incriminated’, ‘slightly incriminated’, ‘not
incriminated’. Of the more than half a million Austrian Nazis, a little
under 10 per cent fell into the first class. It was assumed that the 470,000
in the second class would be amnestied and returned to the suffrage for the
next elections. 79

Special ‘People’s Courts’^ - nomen est omen — were established to try
Nazis. There was no appeal. The first case came up on 14 August 1945
when four SA men were accused of the massacre of 102 Jews in Engerau.
There were seven death sentences passed by the end of the year. It was a

* See below p. 455.

f The ‘Volksgerichthof’ in Nazi times had tried the enemies of the state. There were no
appeals and frequent death sentences.

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GUILT

modest tally. Where possible the blame was laid at the feet of the Germans.
On 30 August William Donovan, head of the OSS, received a report that
63,000 of Vienna’s 67,000 Nazis had been tagged. A large number of them
were claiming they had been forced to join the Party and wanted their
names dropped from the register. Some 5,800 of the city’s ‘dangerous
Nazis’ had been gaoled, but another 10,000 were still at large. 80

When the tally was concluded there was a total of 536,000 names on the
register; and 100,000 of these had been so keen they had joined before
1938, when it was still an illegal organisation. Denazification went off at
half cock in Austria. From the beginning it was left in the hands of the
Austrian government to pursue Nazis, albeit under the gaze of the Allied
Bureau. The Americans prided themselves in being the ‘most drastic’,
although the evidence does not necessarily point to that. In October they
came under strong criticism when it was reported that the former Gauleiter
Scheel had been seen walking about the streets of Salzburg. They were also
keen to weed out the ‘Austro-fascist’ Dollfussites from the OVP. The
British they castigated as the ‘mildest’. Again this is misleading. 81

On 26 February the trial of Chancellor Schuschnigg’s foreign minister
Guido Schmidt opened in Vienna. This was the moment to review the
behaviour of the Corporate State and to discover who was responsible for
the Anschluss. Schmidt had come home from Nuremberg, where he had
appeared as a prosecution witness in the case against Schuschnigg’s succes¬
sor Arthur Seyss-Inquart. 82 * The trial lasted 107 days but failed to prove
that Schmidt had acted behind the back of his chancellor. There had been
much finger-waving on the part of the Dachauer because Schmidt had
been spared incarceration in a camp. Although he had been ousted from
politics by the Nazis, he was nonetheless made a director of the Hermann-
Goring-Werke. Fie was acquitted.

The efficacy of the courts altered from zone to zone. The OSS reported
on a trial in Vienna of four criminals and Jew-murderers: three were con¬
victed and sentenced to hang. 83 As in Germany capital sentences were
often commuted. The courts awarded ten death sentences and thirty-four
terms of life imprisonment. The tribunals delivered another 13,600 guilty
verdicts. The punishments for major culprits were chiefly pecuniary: up to
40 per cent of their property and a 10 per cent fiscal surcharge over a cer¬
tain number of years. In all Austria 42,000 people were treated in this way.
Lighter measures were imposed against a further 481,000. The punishments
were fairly trifling, but 72,000 to 100,000 government employees lost their

* See below Chapter 16.

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CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

jobs. This, it seems, was in no way consistent, and 40,000 Nazi civil ser¬
vants continued in their functions in the Tyrol and the Vorarlberg. 84 Nazis
were debarred from a certain number of professions as well: journalists,
university chairs, physicians; they could neither vote nor stand as candidates
in elections.

Some of the Allied commanders considered that harsh. The Frenchman
Bethouart, for example, felt that the law was cruel to small-time Pgs and
that it eliminated valuable experts from the workplace while ‘closing the
door to national reconciliation’. 85 He does not allude to Austria’s Jews,
who had been robbed and murdered, and who were wary of a state that
had not actively sought their return. Few but the main activists even
thought of coming back. 86 After the delusions current during the war
years, it was now clear that the majority of the Austrian people were
party to their expropriation. Nonetheless, Bethouart pushed for and suc¬
ceeded in attaining a moderation of the statute that amnestied the youngest
Nazis.

Bethouart was not alone in forgetting the Jews. Of the 120,000 or so
who had managed to escape from Austria after the Anschluss, only 8,500
had returned by March 1947. With time the number was to go down, not
up. There were other Jews in Austria — around 42,000 DPs, living mostly
in the American Zone. The Americans made sure they received larger
rations than the others: around 2,000 calories as opposed to the standard
1,550. It was said that Austrian antisemitism was the reason why so many
Jews were reluctant to come back. The charge was bitterly resented by the
mayor of Vienna, Theodor Korner, who said he had issued an invitation to
Jewish artists to return. In a dazzling non sequitur he said, ‘The Austrians are
cosmopolitan and therefore not antisemites.’ The notion of Austrian anti¬
semitism amounted to ‘deliberate lies or thoughtless babble’. 87

The British approach to the Nazi problem in Austria was markedly
different to the approach in the British Zone in Germany, where denazi¬
fication was at best limp-wristed. The enforcement squad was the Field
Security Service or FSS, which had instructions to identify and arrest all
those on the pre-prepared Allied lists, and which depended on the
Intelligence Corps at home. One former member described the force as a
‘secret service in uniform’. 88 Nazi lawyers were suspended — twenty-six in
Carinthia and seventy-six in Styria. 89 The FSS also had to deal with brig¬
ands, gangs of non-German SS men and Cetniks who terrorised isolated
farmhouses close to the Yugoslav border. It had a more strategic role on the
Carinthian border, controlling a twenty-kilometre-broad strip otherwise
accessible only to residents. This was used not only for the defence of the

360

GUILT

region against Tito but also to keep the Yugoslavs out of Venezia-Giulia.
Those involved in the hunt for war criminals worked from lists drawn up
by the Atrocities Committee Austria. 90

In the British Zone the courts examined the case histories of 31,517
Nazis. Of those only 2,623 were acquitted. The British maintained three
internment camps for Nazis at Wolfsberg, Weissenheim and Wetzelsdorf.
The first named became a synonym — along with Glasenbach in the
American Zone — for the rough treatment of political prisoners. The
higher courts dealt with around another hundred cases. These meted out
fifty-three death sentences, forty-two of which were carried out. 91 The
main atrocities committed in Styria concerned the death marches to
Mauthausen at the end of the war. These gave rise to a number of high-
profile cases in 1946. The Eisenerz Trial dealt with the SS guards who
killed off 162 Hungarian Jews in the village of that name because they were
in no condition to make it to Mauthausen. Ten of the eighteen defendants
were sentenced to death, and were shot on 21 June. 92

Shooting gave way to hanging when the gallows was set up in the
Provincial Court on 24 September 1946 and eight men were despatched by
the British master, Albert Pierrepoint. The British had brought in a Herr
Zaglauer and his two assistants to learn the ropes. Pierrepoint expressed his
confidence in these hangmen, who were deemed ‘now fully competent
officially to conduct executions themselves in the approved British
manner’. 93 The Peoples Courts then took over from the British. In Austria
as a whole they meted out forty-three capital sentences. Vienna naturally
took the lead with twenty-eight, but Graz came second with twelve; Linz,
in the American Zone, passed only three; French Innsbruck, none. 94

The Soucek Case examined by the People s Court dealt with an import¬
ant group of neo-Nazis. The court also handled the trial of the Leoben
Gestapo chief Johann Stelzl and those responsible for the euthanasia pro¬
gramme in the lunatic asylum in Klagenfurt. Four men were condemned
to death. Sometimes the tariffs handed out seem light: the main culprit in
the Stremer Jewish Murder Case, in which the defendants were proved to
have killed fifty Jews, received twenty years. 95 The following year, on 27
February 1948, the Russian general Kurasov proposed a bigger amnesty.
The consequence two months later was the law of 21 April which struck
487,000 names from 524,000 on the original lists. This added half a million
electors to the roll, most of them on the right.

Once the former Nazis had been included again within the pale of the
constitution, a new party came on the scene in the guise of the Union of
Independents. Anti-Nazi politicians sought to ban the Independents in

361

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

the Western zones. The Soviets, however, refused to follow suit, and the
Independents promptly took 12 per cent of the vote in the elections of 9
October 1949. The OVP once again topped the poll.

Punishment by Starvation

Once it had been decided that all Germans were guilty, the next job was to
punish them. Despite the propaganda rations meted out by the Russians in
Berlin, the Potsdam Conference decided that the Germans were not to be
over-fed. Requests by the Red Cross to bring in provisions were waved
aside, and in the winter of 1945 donations were returned with the recom¬
mendation that they be used in other war-torn parts of Europe — although
the Irish and Swiss contributions had been specifically raised with
Germany in mind. The first donations to be permitted reached the
American Zone in March 1946, to some degree thanks to the intervention
of British intellectuals such as Bertrand Russell and Victor Gollancz.

Gollancz had published a polemic with the title The Ethics of Starvation 96
in the middle of 1946. As a Jew whose family had settled in Britain from
Germany, Gollancz had no reason to love the Germans. What he objected
to was the inhumane and unethical treatment of German civilians:

I am a Jew: and sometimes I am asked why, as a Jew, I bother about people
in whose name infamies have been committed against my race, the memory
of which, I fear — though I would wish it otherwise — may never die. I am
sometimes asked this, I regret to say, by fellow-Jews who have forgotten, if
they ever knew, the teaching of the Prophets ... It is indeed a fact that I feel
called upon to help suffering Germans precisely because I am a Jew: but not
at all for the reason imagined ... It is a question ... of plain, straight
common sense, undeflected by that very sentimentality that deflects the
judgement and corrupts the spirit of so many. To me three propositions seem
self-evident. The first is that nothing can save the world but a general act of
repentance in place of the present self-righteous insistence on the wicked¬
ness of others, for we have all sinned, and continue to sin most horribly The
second is that good treatment and not bad treatment makes them good. And
the third is — to drop into the hideous collective language which is now
much the mode - that unless you treat a man well when he has treated you
ill you just get nowhere, or rather it will give further impetus to evil and
head straight for human annihilation. 97

Despite the great wrong perpetrated against his people, Gollancz could not
sanction another crime: ‘The plain fact is . . . we are starving the Germans.

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GUILT

And we are starving them, not deliberately in the sense that we definitely
want them to die, but wilfully in the sense that we prefer their death to our
own inconvenience.’ 98 Over and over again in his letters to his wife, he is
struck by the fact that these suffering infants might have been his own chil¬
dren.

From newspaper reports Gollancz prepared a chilling indictment:
seven-tenths of people in the now British city of Hamburg had no bread
for two weeks of every month. He quoted the UNRRA figure for daily
subsistence - 2,650 calories. The minimum needed to sustain life was
2,000. In March 1946 the average for the British Zone had fluctuated
between 1,050 and 1,591. This consisted of four and a half slices of dry
bread, three middle-sized potatoes, three tablespoons of oatmeal, half a
cup of skimmed milk, a scrap of meat and a tiny dollop of fat. At those
levels you could survive in bed, but could not work. Then at the end of
February the rations had been cut to 1,014 for those not doing heavy
work, that is women. Infant mortality was now at ten times the rate of
1944. In Dortmund in February 1946 forty-six out of 257 children born
that month perished. 99

Politicians and soldiers — like Sir Bernard Montgomery — insisted that no
food be sent from Britain. Starvation was punishment. Montgomery said
that three-quarters of all Germans were still Nazis — although he did not
reveal the source of his information. The Germans had only themselves to
blame, and they should be last in the queue. The economist and chancel¬
lor of the Exchequer Hugh Dalton argued that the cost of the occupation
was tantamount to paying reparations to the Germans. 100 Britain itself was
recovering from the wartime dearth, however. The food minister John
Strachey had proudly announced that meat consumption was at 98 per cent
of pre-war levels, and that the British were eating 50 per cent more fish. 101
As Gollancz presciently wrote, Germany had been stripped of its bread
basket cum milk-churn in the east, the pastures of Pomerania and East
Prussia. 102 Meanwhile the British authorities in Germany were proposing
to cut the rations back to 1,000 calories. The French were already at 950,
while the Americans were not much more generous at 1,270. Gollancz
pointed out that the inmates at Belsen had 800, which was not that much
less. 103 In Baden-Baden, Alfred Doblin was suspicious: if they really had so
little food they would be dead. He thought most of them were managing
to supplement their diet from the black market. 104 That didn’t necessarily
help the old and infirm, however.

Gollancz followed The Ethics o f Starvation with a further tract in January
1947. In Darkest Germany was the result of a six-week tour of the British

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CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Zone which the publisher made in October and November 1946, just
before the frost. It consists of eighteen letters and articles he had written to
belabour the government. He regretted he had been unable to make it to
Berlin. On the other hand he suggested that his performance was slightly
superior to that of Hynd, who in the past year by his own admission had
spent no more than twenty-eight days in Germany. 105

Gollancz had gone to Germany with the ‘attitude of a sceptic’. He
nonetheless armed himself with a photographer, and to allay any scoffing
at the veracity of his reports, he backed up everything he said with a pic¬
ture. Most of the photographs include the figure of a benign elderly man
in a dark coat and hat: standing behind naked boys suffering from malnu¬
trition; holding up a particularly awful apology for a child’s shoe; or
comforting a crippled communist in his festering hovel. The point was to
show that he had seen these things with his own eyes and taken nothing on
trust. 106 Hunger oedema was not confined to the new Russian colony of
East Prussia. Gollancz thought it affected up to 100,000 people. He saw
some telling cases in the hospital, with the usual waterlogged legs. His pho¬
tographer took a picture of a dying man. The death-rattle had already
started. Another had a scrotum that stretched a third of the way down to
the ground. On second thoughts Gollancz had this picture omitted from
the finished text. 107 Tuberculosis was at four to five times its 1939 level.
There was no penicillin available for the hospitals, because the Germans did
not have the money to pay for it. 108 Hie Hiird Man said it all.

Gollancz was also interested in clothes. In Darkest Germany he reproduces
a shocking collection of footwear (‘shoes’ is hardly the word). One child
told him that he would not be able to come to school the next day because
his father needed to use the shoes. When it rained there were appalling
levels of absenteeism. In three schools he visited he inspected the feet of all
the children. In one, the shoes of thirty-four out of fifty-eight children were
kaput, in the next fifteen out of thirty-seven, and in the last thirty-four out
of fifty-three. The problem was that even if there were Reichsmarks avail¬
able these could not be used for clothing: you needed coupons or
Bezugmarke. If you had the precious Bezugmarke the chances were that there
were no shoes to buy. In Diisseldorf there were no nappies. Gelsenkirchen
had 260,000 inhabitants. In June the following were available for
Bezugmarke: fifty-six cardigans, forty-nine frocks, twenty-one pairs of knick¬
ers, four nappies, three babies’ knickers, three rubber sheets, seven kilos of
knitting wool and twenty-one small towels. There were 182 births that
month. 109 There were other significant shortages: in Hamburg there were
virtually no contraceptives, despite the dreadful levels of infant mortality.

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GUILT

The bombing of Hamburg had left the city with a hopeless lack of
accommodation, forcing 77,000 people to inhabit bunkers and cellars. Of
these Gollancz estimated that a quarter lived in conditions which resembled
some of the more heart-wrenching pictures ofHonore Daumier. He went
to Belsen to concentrate his mind, and wrote to his wife: ‘I don’t for a
single second forget the other side of the picture.’ 110 The bombing of the
western Prussian town of Jiilich had been the worst in Germany: 93 per
cent of it had been flattened. Given the desolation around him, Gollancz
was amazed to hear that 7,000 of the original 11,000 inhabitants were still
living there. Their presence was indicated by the stove pipes peeping out of
the ground and the tunnels that disappeared into the bases of the ruins.
Still, ‘in spite of everything’, the town’s mayor, an SPD man, continued to
speak of‘liberation’. 111

Leaving aside the humanitarian issue, the failure to feed the Germans,
especially during the cruel winter of 1946—7, may have given rise to a deal
of negative propaganda. Carl Zuckmayer reported conversations overheard
in bread queues in the American Zone: ‘Yes, Hitler was bad, our war was
wrong, but now they are doing the same wrong to us, they are all the same,
there is no difference, they want to enslave Germany in exactly the same
way as Hitler wanted to enslave the Poles, now we are the Jews, the “infe¬
rior race”, they are letting us starve intentionally, can’t you see that is their
plan, they take away all our sources of income and let us die slowly, the gas
chambers worked quicker . . ,’ 112

Gollancz had noticed this even before the frost set in. ‘Youth is being
poisoned and re-nazified: we have all but lost the peace . . .’ he wrote to the
editor of the liberal News Chronicle . 113 The problem had even broader
implications: ‘I should have liked to write about the general decline of
public morality under the impact of growing despair and of the financial
crisis in which the black and the grey sectors constantly encroach upon the
legitimate one . . .’ Gollancz thought German youth had no morality what¬
soever, and the situation was not helped by the lackadaisical approach of the
British authorities. There was just one monthly youth magazine published
by the British, as opposed to nine in the US Zone; and most of those were
fortnightly. 114

Clay was profoundly concerned about the lack of subsistence. He noted
that the people were receiving just 1,000 calories in the British Zone in
February 1946, which would ‘hardly maintain life’. Ernst Jtinger, who
seemed to receive regular gifts of food from his admirers, reported in
March that the rations had sunk to half what they were. ‘This is a death
sentence for many who up to now have only been able to keep their

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heads above water with the greatest effort, above all children, old people
and refugees.’ 115 The US Zone had been up to 1,550, but by 18 March the
figure had dropped to 1,313. Germans were better fed in the Soviet Zone.
Even when spring returned, the American provision had only risen to
1,275. Without access to black-market supplies no one could live and
work. Once again Clay reserved some of his bitterest comments for the
French, who applied to him for wheat in January 1946. Without wheat the
calorie count in their zone would drop from 1,380 to 1,145. Clay thought
they had none because they had taken it all to France. Absence of wheat
and the need to make bread had also obliged the French to close the
breweries. In February that year Clay gave orders to reopen them in the
American Zone. 116 On 26 May 1946 he spoke of a ‘nutritional disaster’.
Ever the propagandist, he thought it ‘may seriously retard the recovery of
Western Europe and probably disturb its political development’. German
children under six were suffering from a high incidence of rickets, and chil¬
dren between six and eighteen were often stunted." 7

Many Germans were prepared to see the Allies as liberating angels at
first, but they were soon disappointed when they saw the all-too-human
soldiers arrive filled with propaganda and hatred for the civilian popula¬
tion. The high-flown rhetoric of the Atlantic Charter now appeared to be
every bit as pharisaic as the Fourteen Points of Woodrow Wilson had
been." 8 The danger of hunger and famine was slow to abate. Gollancz
had had faith in the idea of Anglo-American co-operation, but even with
the creation of Bizonia the rations were pitifully low. As the cold weather
began to set in, on 14 October 1946 the daily intake was only 1,550
calories." 9

Stories abounded like those retailed in Paris during the Commune:
dogs and cats were not safe from hungry Germans. Rats and frogs were
eaten, together with snails - which made a filling soup. Florse was a rela¬
tively common dish, as the beasts often expired by the roadside and were
then carved up by the locals with sharp knives. The Germans discovered
the nutritious character of certain plants. Netdes were an obvious resource.
Flour was made from shoots, rosehips and reed mace (cat’s tail). Acorns,
dandelion and lupine roots were ground to make coffee. In Austria to this
day they will tell you that their fondness for elderflowers and elderberries
dates from that time. 120 Wild mushrooms were a great boon in season: they
stopped the stomach from rumbling but later tortured the consumer with
their indigestibility. Even by the winter of 1948 the situation had not been
remedied - the Germans had still to reckon with scanty rations. That
winter the Americans brought in supplies of maize. As we have seen, the

366

GUILT

Germans were not impressed: Hiihnerfutter (chicken feed) one man called it;
no jolly green giants for them.

The countryside should have had other uses. Germany was struck by a
plague of wild boars after the war, which were in their way as frightening
as the marauding gangs of eastern European DPs. The boars gobbled up
potatoes and other crops. Farmers armed themselves with bows and arrows
because they had been obliged to yield up their guns. Most of them had no
way of killing the creatures, which then fell victim to Allied troops, who
hunted them for sport, not out of hunger. 121

The situation was made all the more acute by the failures of supply. The
potatoes sent from Bavaria in the winter of 1946—7 arrived frozen. Those
who had nothing to trade and no power to go out and scavenge fared the
worst: of the 700 inmates of the lunatic asylum at Grafenberg bei
Drisseldorf, 160 died. At the lowest point of that winter, the daily intake in
British Nordrhein-Westfalen was 865 calories. Rumours spread: in
Oldenburg the locals thought the Allies were hoarding food in preparation
for a new war; or it was said that they were hoping that all the Germans
would die, and save them the expense of feeding them. Special ‘hamster’
trains were organised to see if anything could be found out in the coun¬
try — either by trading with the farmers or simply by scrumping. When
rickets appeared in the British Zone, the authorities responded by issuing
vigantol and vitimin D2. In Berlin, TB now accounted for one death in
ten. 122

Some relief was to be had from the Hoover Diet introduced in the
summer of 1947: a 350-calorie meal for children. Former president Herbert
Hoover had toured Germany and pronounced that its food situation was
the worst in Europe and that its diet was providing the lowest number of
calories for a century. He proposed sending over America’s surplus potato
production. Suddenly the school meal became the equivalent of a banquet.
Germans learned to like peanuts and soya. At the beginning of 1948 there
was a twenty-four-hour general strike in Bizonia in protest against the lack
of food. 123

On 17 June 1948 Carl Zuckmayer, now joined by his wife Alice, wit¬
nessed a full-scale demonstration from their Munich hotel room. The
protesters were several thousand students in their twenties. From loud¬
speakers they chanted, ‘We want no tyranny from hunger!’ and ‘We have
not been colonised!’ The demonstrators wore death’s heads or white
clothes painted with skeletons, and dragged coffins and gravestones along
behind them. One had a bread-basket containing just a piece of crust;
others carried symbols of misery, hunger and death. Other university cities

367

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witnessed similar protests that day: three years after the end of the war the
people were still starving, and their intellectual hunger was also as yet
unassuaged.

The Zuckmayers found it horribly reminiscent of other demonstra¬
tions they had witnessed in the city that had seen the birth of Nazism. In
1933 they had found themselves enmeshed in a pack of brutal Nazi stu¬
dents. They had been lucky to extricate themselves with their lives; and yet
these students in 1948 were well brought up and highly intelligent. One of
the organisers was a close relative of a member of the Scholl circle — the
Weisse Rose. The Zuckmayers watched as armed MPs advanced at them
from the Nazi Haus der Kunst, which was now an American officers’
mess. Carl realised that the only way to make the Germans into decent
people again was to treat them with kindness. 134

Fringsen

It wasn’t just the lack of food that killed, it was the extreme cold. In the
winter of 1945—6 the coal ran out. Joseph Frings, archbishop of Cologne,
addressed the ‘people of the Rhineland’ in his New Year’s Eve homily: ‘We
live in times when we have to help ourselves to little things that are nec¬
essary to keep ourselves alive and to maintain our health, if we may not
obtain them through our work or by requesting them . . . But I believe that
in many cases it has gone much further than this, and when this happens
there is only one solution: to immediately return any property you have no
right to own, otherwise God will not forgive you.’ 125 The people were
only too ready to interpret the sermon: if you are going lose your lives by
freezing to death, then help yourself to what you need! No one paid much
heed to the second part of the paragraph, or indeed to the gist of the
sermon. The story of the primate’s condoning of theft spread like wildfire —
the Church approved the stealing of coal. In February 1947 a train was
stormed in Nuremberg, forcing the police to fire warning shots. On the
26th of that month it was reported that there had been 305 deaths from
hypothermia in the Western zones, 1,155 cases had been admitted to hos¬
pital and 49,300 people treated for the effects of the cold. 126 By March
17,000 people had been arrested for stealing coal since the New Year. 127

Frings had come into his own once the war ended. He was the one
post-war churchman to originate a verb in German: fringsen — helping
yourself (principally to Allied coal) when the troops weren’t looking. It was
similar to zapp-zarapp - helping yourself the Russian way. Frings was more

368

GUILT

a man of the people than the other high churchmen who had won their
laurels objecting to Hitler’s policies. He had suffered knocks with the best
of them. In June 1943 a bomb had blown up the air-raid shelter he was in,
killing two nuns and injuring five others. Frings rolled up his sleeves and
helped to rescue the wounded. His own family house was destroyed, killing
one of his sisters; a brother was killed during an air attack on Magdeburg;
another died in a Russian camp. 128

He had been appointed in May 1942 after his predecessor, Schulte, died
in the course of another air-raid. The Nazis had already expressed their
view of Frings when they attacked him in his parish, and Peter
Winckelnkemper, the ‘brown’ mayor of Cologne, had thrown an ashtray at
the priest, scarring his face. Perhaps because he had seen the suffering
caused by both sides in the conflict, he was able to speak up for the victims.
He stood up first to the Nazis, then to the Allies by rejecting ‘collective
guilt’. From his pulpit he called for justice and Christian love from the con¬
querors; he demanded the liberation of POWs, spoke out against famine
and against the expulsions from the east and called for just proceedings in
denazification. He also pleaded for the lives of those who had been con¬
demned to death by the Allied courts. 129

At Christmas 1945 he made this clear to his flock. The war was over, but
the current situation was one of general suffering: ‘I see it as my duty to
relieve your pain as best I might... by speaking and writing. I have always
made it plain that the whole nation is not guilty, and that many thousand
children, old people and mothers are wholly innocent and it is they who
now bear the brunt of the suffering in this general misery.’ 130

Frat

As already noted, there was to be no talking to the conquered Germans.
‘Fraternising’ was prohibited before the Western Allies arrived in Germany
The ban was first imposed after the First World War, but then the occupa¬
tion of Germany had been limited to certain western districts. After the
Second World War in some places it remained in force until October
1945, although it was perfectly ineffective. 131

Soldiers were told not to be moved by the hunger of a ‘yellow-haired
German child . . . there lurked the Nazi’. In the American army paper Stars
and Stripes servicemen were rehearsed in useful slogans: ‘Soldiers wise
don’t fraternise.’ A picture showed a comely German girl: ‘Don’t play
Samson to her Delilah — She’d like to cut your hair off — at the neck.’ Or

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CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

quite simply: ‘In heart, body and spirit every German is a Hitler!’ 132 The
British were almost as heartless. The order banning frat was introduced to
British forces in March 1945. In his proclamation to the Germans Bernard
Montgomery asked them to tell their children ‘why it is the British soldier
does not smile’. Very soon, however, Montgomery saw that the ban was
unworkable with the children and exempted those under eight. On 12
June soldiers could address any child. The British scrapped the ban alto¬
gether in September, but until the following month Germans had to get
out of the way of British soldiers on the pavement. 133

In some quarters, the ban on frat was the source of acute frustration
among Germans. Ursula von Kardorff heard about the prohibition on 11
June. Soldiers began to shout at the women: ‘We would like to talk to you,
but we are not allowed. Eisenhower said so.’ Arthur Radley, a British offi¬
cer serving in Austria, thought the whole thing ludicrous, but the ban had
one unexpected advantage. His regiment had an RSM whom everyone
disliked, but they could find no way of getting rid of him. Then, as they
were marching into Styria, a girl asked him the time, and he replied. He
was put before a court martial and broken to private. He was then trans¬
ferred to another regiment. ‘A lot of people could breathe again.’ 134

On 29 June Clay reported that the ban was ‘extremely unpopular’. It
was chiefly a ‘boy—girl problem’. ‘The only fraternisation that really inter¬
ests the soldiers is going with the pretty German girl, who is very much in
evidence.’ He thought the whole thing made for bad propaganda: it should
be the American soldier, not the German girl, who wins hearts and
minds. 135 It was also wholly ineffectual: within a month of the Western
Allies’ arrival a German lover became the rule. What the soldiers did
when they were alone was flatting. For George Clare, coining a mixed
metaphor rather a long time after the event, British soldiers were ‘cement¬
ing Anglo-Gennan relations at the grass-roots’. His mess, a large,
requisitioned Berlin flat, was ‘liberty hall’: you never went into any bed¬
room without knocking first. There was a chance there would be a
‘Veronika’ in there. Others went home to the family. One of Clare’s friends
shared a bedroom with a woman and her mother. The latter just turned
over and went to sleep. 136

Neither Allied soldiers nor German women were ready to co-operate
with the ban. Part of the problem was a shortage of the opposite sex. Most
German men aged between sixteen and sixty were absent; those who
remained were often invalids or cripples. Women aged between twenty and
forty outnumbered their men by 160 to 100. Margret Boveri reported
four women mobbing a twenty-year-old German youth in Neukolln in

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GUILT

Berlin, and recalled the problems that had been caused for her generation
by the loss of two million young men in the Great War. The conquerors,
by contrast to the old men around, looked healthy and proud, which acted
as an aphrodisiac of sorts. For the women themselves, their virtue had been
compromised by two things - the experience of rape, often aggravated by
violence, disease or pregnancy, and starvation. Clare’s frat, ‘Anita’, was
lucky to have been raped just once: she had tried to wriggle out of it by
pointing to her groin and saying ‘I sick!’ The Russian was wise to that. ‘I
rubber!’ he replied. 137 Very soon Clare learned that most if not all of his
comrades in arms had adopted ‘Frauleins’ and that certain nights when the
men did not return to their billets were called ‘Fraulein nights’. 138

The way to the Berlin women’s hearts appears to have been through
their stomachs. From the Winston Club, British Other Ranks filled their
haversacks with spam and cheese rolls, buns and cakes. A haversack filled
with NAAFI food had the purchasing power of two cigarettes. You could
feed a Fraulein and her family for four Gold Flakes or Players. British sol¬
diers were rationed to 200 cigarettes a week, which made them the lords of
the land with full seigniorial rights. 139 Morality was loose and prostitution
rife. Both the Allies and the German authorities turned a blind eye to it. In
Nuremberg one of James Stern’s colleagues interviewed a prostitute. She
said most of her customers were sad German soldiers looking for com¬
panionship, but there were American soldiers too, ‘both white and
coloured’. The AMG had not sought to interfere, but the prostitutes had
to register and see a doctor once a week. 140

It was generally not a formal business arrangement in that way. German
women were prepared to have sex with Americans for reasons that
stretched from companionship to the need for protection, cigarettes, food
or stockings. There was a wood in Nuremberg that Stern called
‘Conception Copse’. Between 6 p.m. and the curfew it was littered with
GIs and German girls. As frat was still officially banned, they had to beware
of MPs. There were, however, plenty of DPs acting as auxiliaries to the
American forces who had no fear of the police — Germans, Hungarians,
Czechs, Italians, Letts or Poles - and they too availed themselves of the
German girls. 141

37i

Black Market

Old Reichsmark coins, which weren’t valid any more because of
their silver content — we weren’t supposed to have them any more -
and Party badges — all badges from Hitler’s time, Hitler Youth
badges — with those we went to the [American] barracks and in the
barracks we got cigarettes. And the cigarettes we exchanged for food
at the farmers.

Quoted in Petra Goedde, GIs and Germans,
New Haven and London 2003, 90

Cigarettes and CARE Packets

W ith a cigarette worth more than a hundred-mark note even the old
nobles were happy to make a little money smuggling cigarettes
across the green frontier. An American cigarette was worth a suburban rail¬
way ticket, and a packet counted as a major bribe. In October 1945, one
cigarette was worth four ounces of bread. In a POW camp they could cost
as much as 120 marks apiece. 1 The Germans who were best off were those
who could still lay their hands on jewellery, watches or cameras. Franz
Sayn-Wittgenstein remembered selling a badly damaged piece of Meissen
porcelain to a black-marketeer for a considerable number of cigarettes. The
piece was restored and sold to an American general s wife who kept it too
close to the fire and the restored part promptly fell off. 2

The importance of the cigarette trade is revealed in contemporary litera¬
ture. Heinrich Bolls ‘Kumpel mit den langen Haar’ (My Long-Haired Mate)
describes a raid on a black market. The central character sees jeeps drive up
to a station filled with redcaps who then cordon off the area and begin their
search. ‘It went incredibly quickly. I stood just outside the cordon and lit a
cigarette. Everything happened so quietly. Lots of cigarettes landed on the
ground. Pity ... I thought and I made an involuntary calculation as to how

372

BLACK MARKET

much money was now lying in the dirt. The Black Maria quickly filled up
with its quarry . . The man wisely avoids going to his digs. He goes into the
station and walks to the buffet where he hands over 200 cigarettes to Fritz the
waiter and sticks the money into his back pocket. ‘Now I was completely
without wares, just a packet for myself.’ He orders a bowl of meat stock and
a piece of bread. He is joined by litde Mausbach, quite out of breath. “You,”
he stammered. “You need to beat it . . . they have searched your room and
found the coke . . . Christ!” He was almost choking. I patted him reassur¬
ingly on the shoulder and gave him twenty marks . . . Pity, I thought
again . . . eight thousand marks gone up in smoke . . . You are safe nowhere.’ 3

One way of surviving was smuggling from the Russian Zone to the
West. Libussa von Krockow traded American cigarettes in the Russian
Zone and procured nylons in Chemnitz that she then bartered with a
shoemaker in Holstein for a pair of shoes. She suspended the smuggling in
1946, with the onset of the killing winter. 4 In the spring of 1947 Clay made
a move to stop the use of cigarettes as currency by banning their import¬
ation. He considered bringing in tobacco instead, thereby leading to a fall
in prices as supply increased. Clay had to admit it was unlikely to remove
the value of Lucky Strikes, as there had been a black market for American
cigarettes before the war. 5 Rumours of currency reform were rife six
months before the Allies made their move. Until that happened barter was
still the means by which people normally lived. A woman wanting to have
her hair washed, for example, had to bring with her the soap, a towel and
five pieces of wood. Wood was an important commodity, especially in
winter, and Ruth Friedrich was appalled to see that her lover’s grave had
been plundered of the pine fronds she had laid on it — an ancient and prob¬
ably heathen Prussian tradition. 6

For the Allies working in Germany shopping was done in ‘Occupation
Marks’ — ‘a currency with an appearance even more spurious than that of
the million- and milliard-mark bills of the inflation period after the First
War’. 7 Cigarettes were one means the Allies had of getting their way in
Germany; another was chewing gum. A generation of Germans became
addicted to gum as a result of GIs handing it out to children, so much so
that even now chewing gum is nowhere in Europe so respectable as it is in
Germany. Even the Old Etonian Stern was not averse to using gum as a
way to the hearts of children. 8 Another important commodity was soap.
Prisoners released from American camps hoarded soap, which they could
sell for food or cigarettes. Former POWs from British camps had no such
currency. A bar of soap had a monetary value of between fifty and eighty
marks. The most highly prized was Palmolive.

373

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

In the winter of 1946—7, as many as 60,000 chiefly elderly Germans died
of cold and hunger. CRALOG (Council of Relief Agencies Licensed to
Operate in Germany) was a manifestation of the Allies’ change of attitude
to the Germans. By the beginning of 1947 it had distributed 30,000 tons of
food. In April 1946 CARE (Co-operative of American Remittances to
Europe) joined in. This was the beginning of the famous CARE packets:
1.9 million of them were handed out in 1946 alone. After the winter Clay
called for relief from Washington. He expressed the view that there was no
hope of introducing democracy to a starving population. 9

In a Germany where there were ‘calories but no food’ 10 something always
needed to be found to supplement the scanty commons provided by the
Allies — and that meant the black market. ‘Whoever wanted to live needed
to find connections to the black market as a seller or a buyer.’ 11 There was
nothing new about black markets, which will emerge wherever there is
rationing. The black market flourished during the Third Reich despite
some draconian punishments, from the Junker who was made an example
of and given four months for failing to deliver his milk to the co-operative,
to the 5,142 black-marketeers who were executed for illicit trading. 12

The black market was often based in the main railway station. In a
remarkable number of instances, it was the only largely undamaged struc¬
ture in the city centre. The atmosphere in these stations appears in Boll’s
early stories. Another man with an eye for detail was Zuckmayer —
although with an important proviso. Zuckmayer points out that recording
the man in the street often gives a false idea of how a country thinks
because the stupidest have the loudest mouths, and more intelligent people
either reflect more before they speak or hold their tongues. 13 The station
was the point of arrival and departure and a transit point: ‘In Germany
there is ... a ceaseless creeping, crawling and groping; an enraged ant-heap,
the constant buzzing of swarms of wild bees; an eternal coming and going,
tramping, running and criss-crossing; a scraping and creaking of millions of
unquiet soles. This is the spirit of the “Black Market” or the “Green
Border” [the unpatrolled frontier]; the world and the march of the home¬
less, the expellees, the masses torn asunder, the furtive traveller, the
marauding youth.’

Railway stations were the centres of their universe, open all day and all
night. ‘Stations are not just miserable waiting rooms for overtired,
exhausted travellers; they are homes for the homeless.’ 14 On the north side
of Frankfurt Station there was a hut operated by the Red Cross that served
as a room for travelling mothers, where they could change their infants and

374

BLACK MARKET

receive a little nourishment in the form of porridge, gruel, skimmed milk
or hot soup. There was no need of coupons. Despairing mothers often left
their children in the hut, knowing that the Red Cross could hardly toss
them out into the cold. On the far side of the Rhine, in the French Zone,
there was rumoured to be a market for babies. 15

Zuckmayer clearly enjoyed the curious parade of figures in every con¬
ceivable costume: a man wearing Tyrolean dress, his knees exposed to the
freezing air and frozen blue scratching his wiry beard with the side of his
zither case; another wrapped in a Yugoslavian sheepskin; men dressed in
every form of military uniform and a lot of black jackets emblazoned with
the fading legend ‘PW’ for prisoner of war. Women were also dressed in
this motley fashion, from a worn-out silk cape to a pair of ski trousers that
had seen better days.

To buy food or drink required prolonged queuing. If you were lucky
you might obtain a glass of watery beer or a cup of beef broth on presen¬
tation of a ration coupon. Even then a cup or glass was only issued on
payment of a ten-mark deposit. Most were there to trade, however.
Zuckmayer compared it to Times Square on a Saturday night. If you
moved among the mass you could hear the offers of butter, dripping,
flour, cigarettes - Chesterfields or Luckies were the best - or gems, coffee,
chocolate or soap. Papers were also traded, often on particular specialised
platforms within the station. New names could be issued with the pass¬
port. Most people went for quite banal things they felt they needed, like
tobacco. For a box brownie you might have received a carton of washing
powder crammed with desiccated tobacco or crumbled cigarettes made up
from fag ends called Besen or brooms. An opera glass yielded a kilo of
dried peas and a bacon rind. On another occasion a camera was hocked
for a goose. 16

There were periodic Razzien or raids, when the traders scattered
before the police — these were either ‘minor’ or ‘major’ raids. The former
were carried out by the German police, who took their work seriously.
They concentrated on rounding up prostitutes and taking them off to a
clinic for examination. They were released with a ‘hunting certificate’ —
or a clean bill of health — and went directly back to the station. The
major Razzia was performed by foreign MPs. Those who were arrested
spent a night in the cells. In Berlin that meant the police station on the
‘Alex’ or Alexanderplatz. It was not considered a disgrace to be caught
and punished in this way, when so many Germans were in prison for
innocent reasons. 17 Among those arrested was Ernst Jiinger, who was in
Tubingen to address students. One of his companions in the car was

375

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

found to possess a suspicious number of cigarettes. He was put against a
wall, and when the local Landrat intervened, the politician was made to
join him. 18

Some of the traders had already begun to cast themselves as ‘business¬
men’ by the winter of 1946—7. One young man called Dieter took
Zuckmayer off for a drink at his favourite bar, which turned out to be close
to Frankfurt Station. They had to walk though a gloomy and ruinous
backyard. The bar had been decorated with fake flowers and a three-man
ensemble played pseudo-swing music. An evil schnapps was available for
monstrous prices, as were American cigarettes. There was a sign on the
counter announcing that the under-aged were not allowed in, but
Zuckmayer saw plenty of much younger boys and girls. Zuckmayer heard
a boy pleading with a girl to sleep with him. He could not have been older
than fifteen and still had a child’s voice. The object of his attention was a
powerful girl in a Manchester jacket and man’s trousers: ‘Will you not
come with me tonight? You promised.’

‘Leave me alone. I have already done it five times today.’

‘But you promised!’ the boy begged.

‘Leave me alone. Do you think I do this for pleasure?’

‘I’ve got a Hershey Bar.’ The boy was almost in tears.

‘Get on with you. I still need a carton of cigarettes. I need a new
dress.’

Zuckmayer’s ‘businessman’ did not relish the idea of this freebooting
being brought to an end, but a money-based economy was bound to
come. The other boys ‘in business’ looked well on it: they were strong and
fit, although the girls, living mostly from their bodies, looked less so.
There was chicanery there too. Some of the men who went into the ruins
with the girls were promptly beaten up and relieved of their wallets. 19
Dieter lived with a girl who worked as a prostitute for the officers and men
of the garrison. He was keen that Zuckmayer should not think ill of her for
making her money that way. She was all right for all that, and Dieter
thought that they could make it together, pull themselves out of the gutter.
‘Who can navigate these times and remain wholly clean?’ 20

In Berlin the most famous black market was held around the ruined
Reichstag building, stretching as far as the Brandenburg Gate — though
this may have been a separate division. The main business was in cigar¬
ettes, and there were the usual police raids. One effect of the new
currency was to increase the price of metal, and Paul Wallot’s building was
stripped of all its metallic features for cash. This rang the knell for a
number of statues that were torn down and sold for scrap. 21 The legendary

376

BLACK MARKET

Munich black market was in the Mohlstrasse in Bogenhausen. Here you
could obtain anything, provided you had money, cigarettes or something
to swap: ‘flour and carpets, French cognac [s/c], Spanish oranges, silver pots
and cigarettes, English cloth and German cameras’. The traders were east¬
ern Jews, Greeks, Hungarians, Czechs and Poles. There were also deals in
the main Viktualienmarkt in the centre of the city, where business centred
on the Stadt Kempten pub. Even the Hofbrauhaus was a black market in
its day. Traders used ingenious devices to run cigarettes. There were
James-Bond-style cars with false floors which could be lined with
cartons. 22

The situation in French-controlled south Baden gives an indication of
values at the end of 1946: 1,200 litres of fermenting wine must plus 200
litres sweet must plus old wine barrels were exchanged for seven rubber
tyres; 6,000 kilos of potatoes for twelve pairs of working trousers and four
aprons; three flints for five eggs; six bottles of schnapps for three men’s
shirts; a watch for two kilos of butter; thirty litres of wine for eighty horse¬
radish roots; two pairs of ladies’ trousers for two calf pelts; a cuckoo clock
with a ceramic plate for a thousand cigarettes; a 500-kilo pig for 200 litres
of wine; two pairs of ladies’ socks for a pound and half of butter. 23

There were plenty of rhymes:

Der Schmuck hat man als Butter aufgegessen,
die Meissner Tassen tragt man jetzt als Schuh.

So wachst dem Eigner, was er einst besessen
Von Grund auf umgewandelt wieder zu . . .*

Here at last was ‘zero hour’; the tabula rasa. Those family treasures that had
not been destroyed by bombs, stolen or broken by Russians were now
eaten up. That the black market had its positive side was pointed out by the
Frankfurt city physician Dr Struder: it offered an opportunity to supple¬
ment rations. Another - also illegal - solution was hamstern. Special trains
took town and city folk out to country areas to trade with farmers and
smallholders. If no one was to hand, the ‘hamsters’ helped themselves. The
farmers did not trust money, so exchanges were in useful goods or objects.
Another country activity of note was illegal distillation. A bottle of
schnapps was a tradable commodity and a good way of turning a few
apple trees into a money-making enterprise. Growers in Lower Austria

* The jewellery has been consumed as butter,

The Meissen cups are worn as shoes.

Behold the new man step out the gutter,

Ancient heirlooms put to better use.

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fought shy of bringing their wine into Vienna, as they were often robbed
by Russian soldiers. They preferred potential clients to come to them, at
their own risk. 34

Of course the black market bred crime as well. The buyer needed to
beware of counterfeit foods. Tins were filled with filth, and the unwary
could return to find everything they had acquired was rotten. Many of the
Germans working at the black market were KZler — ‘greens’ or habitual
criminals — and these were prone to show off their wealth in one or two
prominent bars, such as the Queen in Cologne, by drinking real coffee and
eating coupon-free menus. The fortunes of several West German busi¬
nessmen were founded in the post-war black market.

The black market was also a stomping ground for DPs. While they
waited to be repatriated many turned to crime. Western European DPs
received a good press on the whole, but others were feared by the
Germans. James Stern witnessed an ugly scene in Darmstadt, when the car
he was in collided with a German cyclist with a wooden leg. A crowd of
Polish DPs gathered around the injured man, evidently hoping that the
Americans would beat him up — or worse. They were disappointed when
they drove the man home instead. Wild bands of lawless DPs had become
the new brigands of post-war Germany. Another man Stern interviewed,
a lawyer, was obsessed with the risk of robbery by bands of Polish DPs. So
far they had stolen three bicycles from him in a Munich suburb and a Pole
had shot at him in the city centre. Russian DPs had attacked his neighbours
and killed the wife, before stealing the couple’s bicycles.

As Jtinger had observed in his village near Celle, the DPs were at their
worst around Hanover. The writer and journalist Leonard Mosely admit¬
ted that most of the cars had been stolen by the Allies themselves, but it was
DPs who first led a reign of terror in Herford ‘loaded with loot and
drinks’. In Hanover they were out of control for several days. 25 Touring
Hessen in the winter of 1945, John Dos Passos was told of a German
killed and stripped by DPs the night before. The DPs formed robber bands
that were responsible for a number of atrocious acts in both Germany and
Austria. Near Stuttgart there were nightly attacks on isolated farmhouses.
On 10 November 1945 at Spitalmiihle near Margroningen a miller and his
family fled to the cellar for safety, but all six were shot in the head by the
intruders. 26 The American army was called in to deal with a gang of Polish
DPs, and eventually had to use tanks in the course of a twelve-hour Razzia
at Wildflecken near Fulda. 27

For the time being no one seemed to have a policy for what to do with
the foreign workers. They were to be found on the roads leading from the

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BLACK MARKET

main cities, trying to find a way home. The exceptions were the Russians,
most of whom would have done anything to remain in Germany, or travel
on to America or Australia. Elena Skijabina was appointed to visit some of
the Russian camps. She reported that all the Russian inmates were ‘driven
by one feeling — to get as far away as possible from the Soviet Union’. 28

Russian soldiers sold off some of their surplus watches and traded
German marks for dollars, while the Americans bought Meissen porcelain
with their PX rations. 29 A Russian soldier remembered encountering a
black American who tried to sell him first a Colt pistol, then a jeep.
Elsewhere blacks sold cigarettes, chocolates and soap. 30 Smuggling cars
back to the Soviet Union ended when the Russian authorities imposed
huge tariffs in 1946. The Americans used the Interzone train that ran from
Osnabriick to Berlin and was called the ‘the silk-stocking express’ for that
reason. 31 The British received fifty cigarettes free per week and could buy
another 200 at duty-free prices. These were sold for marks and then
changed back into sterling at RM40 to the pound. Anything could be
obtained on the black market to improve the quality of life. There were
drugs such as cocaine, morphine and opium; for VD sufferers there was
penicillin, and quinine to provoke abortions. There were also contracep¬
tives. 32

One striking case of criminality that had its origins in the black market
was that of Werner Gladow, the ‘A 1 Capone of the Alexanderplatz’.
Gladow was born in May 1931, the son of a butcher. He was too young to
have experienced the war as a soldier, merely the chaos and depravity
occasioned by the Allied bombing. At sixteen he made a modest start as a
criminal on the Berlin black market. He was rounded up and imprisoned
twice. In April 1948 he graduated from petty marketeering to proper
crime when he smashed the window of a camera shop in the Rankestrasse
and stole what he thought was a camera. The proprietor gave chase, but
Gladow shot him in the leg. He and his gang stole a car and headed for the
Soviet Sector. When East Berlin Volkspolizei or ‘Vopos’ surrounded the
car, Gladow fired at them and the gang escaped.

Gladow formed his friends into a proper gang expanding to twenty-
seven at its apogee. All the members had nicknames. Gladow was
‘Doktorchen’, or ‘Little Doc’. He acted on tip-offs from Gustav Volpel, an
executioner on both sides of Berlin between 1946 and 1948. The gang’s
first proper haul occurred when they held up the cashier of a funfair on the
Prenzlauer Berg. Gladow was convinced that the way to succeed was
superior firepower. To this end he held up a detachment of seven Vopos
and stole their guns. These came in useful for the robbery of a number of

379

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

jewellers’ shops and a hold-up at a Tauschzentral* in the Frankfurter Allee.
As the director of the Tauschzentral would not reveal where he had hidden
the day’s takings Gladow tortured him until he handed over RM6,ooo.
Meanwhile the gang had run out of ammunition. The solution was to hold
up another eight Vopos in January 1949 and rob them of their guns. The
Gladow gang’s attacks became ever more violent. During a robbery of a
jeweller’s they shot a man several times. A shocked general public pelted
them with stones. They still managed to escape and the police found no
trace of them. One reason why they were so difficult to track down was the
position of Berlin and its sectors. As in The Third Man in Vienna, there was
no co-operation between the police in the East and West. Berlin was a
paradise for gangsters like Gladow.

In May 1949 the gang shot and killed the driver of a BMW and stole his
car. Now the police finally uncovered the tracks of the gang and went to
arrest Gladow in Friedrichshain in the Soviet Sector. After a gun battle in
which Gladow was wounded twice, he was taken into custody and charged
with 352 offences, including two murders and fifteen attempted murders.
In the dock he was undiminished in his cockiness. Attempts to reduce the
sentence on the grounds of age were rejected, and Gladow was beheaded
in Frankfurt-an-der-Oder on 5 December 1950. 33

* The Tauschzentral was a sort of pawn shop where goods were exchanged for money or
food, an official version of the black market, established in all four zones. It was hoped that
its presence would gradually eliminate the latter. Unfortunately, however, the Tauschzentral
would neither sell food nor accept it in payment for goods.

380

Light Fingers

Naturally I nicked things sometimes, coal and that sort of thing.
Wood too. Just recently I even stole a loaf of bread from a baker’s shop.
It was really quick and simple. I just snatched the bread and walked
out. I went out calmly, only when I got to the corner did I start to
run. You just don’t have the nerves any more.

Heinrich Boll, ‘Geschaft ist Geschaft’, in Wanderer kommst
du nach Spal — Erzdhlungen, Munich 1997, 171

T heft was not confined to petty larceny among the soldateska, DPs or
starving Germans. Whole governments were involved in robbing
Germany of anything that took their fancy. It could have been just about
anything, such as Goring s yacht, the Karin II, which ended up in the hands
of the British royal family One Soviet priority was the seizure of any
important works of art found in the capital. This was a fully planned oper¬
ation, and no particular novelty. The greatest art thief of all time was
probably Napoleon Bonaparte, and French provincial museums are still
filled with paintings acquired on his campaigns. The Nazis too plundered
art wherever they went, but they proved themselves amateurs beside the
Red Army. The art works stolen by Soviet troops were originally planned
to be exhibited in a huge museum of war trophies — the equivalent of
Hitlers museum in Linz. As the tide of opinion changed, however, the
Russians chose to conceal the art works in special closed galleries through¬
out the Soviet Union. Many of them remain hidden to this day.*

In true Soviet style many of these works of art were destroyed in the
fighting and more were to be eradicated by negligence during the first days
of the occupation. The pillage was by no means limited to Berlin, and
within their zone and in the former German areas that were ceded to

* In 1999 an assistant director of the Hermitage in St Petersburg told the author that the pic¬
tures were still there, and that they had been in the museum from the day they were
removed from Germany. It was not Russian policy to give them back.

381

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Russia and Poland the Soviets were able to make off with some two and a
half million objets d’art including 800,000 paintings. Some of these had been
stolen by the Nazis.

Art boffins travelled with the Red Army as they conquered Germany,
grabbing anything of value. This was not always so easy, as the squaddies
were often more likely to destroy works of art than to preserve them.
Fyodor Chotinsky, for example, chanced upon his first haul when he
entered one of the houses of a Graf Pourtales on 10 March 1945. His
excitement was mitigated, however, when over the next few days troops
shattered the larger part of the porcelain, knocked over statuary, and poked
out the eyes of portraits in the style of Rembrandt and Greuze. Even
when troops were posted to watch over a collection, the boffins returned
to find that the guards had slept in the tapestries and used the porcelain to
cook in. 1

The nemesis of this Russian pursuit of trophies was the MFAA
(Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives) department of the US army. They
too took art works into ‘custody’, including some 200 canvases found in
Berlin. The Americans originally planned to ship a large percentage of
Germany’s art treasures home with them. This was a policy warmly sup¬
ported by Clay, who wanted to ‘hold them in trust for the German
people’. There was a little more to it than that, however. Clay’s concern for
the artworks encompassed an element of‘trophying’: the ‘American public
is entitled to see these art objects’. He opposed the return of works from
the Kaiser Friedrich Museum* in Berlin before a place could be found to
exhibit them. Eventually President Truman stepped in and promised to
send them back. 2

This was in part due to Captain Walter Farmer, the author of the
‘Wiesbaden Manifesto’, who encouraged ministers, senators and museum
curators to protest against official policy. Those works of art that had
already been removed to America were brought back to Germany after
their return had been officially sanctioned by Clay in March 1948. The
Prussian Collections were given to Hessen, as the state of Prussia would
shortly be abolished by the notorious Control Council Law No. 46 of
February 1947. The former Prussian Collection from the Kaiser Friedrich
Museum had found a temporary home in Wiesbaden. They included the
famous bust of Queen Nefertiti. Much of Berlin’s treasure was housed in
the castellated flak towers that were National Socialism’s most striking gift
to the capital. In one of them, the Zoo Tower, Soviet art historians in

* Now the Bode Museum. It was in the Soviet Sector.

382

LIGHT FINGERS

uniform discovered Heinrich Schliemann’s gold: the treasures of Troy pro¬
tected day and night by the director of the Museum for Antiquities, Dr
Wilhelm Unverzagt. Unverzagt had managed to prevent the soldiers from
finding the gold until i May, when a superior officer appeared. Then he
revealed the contents of the cases. The officer posted sentries. A few days
later General Bersarin made a visit to the tower and assured Unverzagt that
the treasures would be taken to a safe place. At the end of the month
Schliemann’s gold was carried off on an army lorry. Its ultimate destination
was Leningrad.

Unverzagt had one last job to perform: he had to supervise the inven¬
tory as the boxes were filled with other treasures as they were removed
from the tower. The first convoy set out on 13 May. By the 19th the work
was all but finished. On the 21st he learned that the lorries were heading
for the Soviet army HQ at Karlshorst. Speed was vital: the Western Allies
were due in Berlin at any moment and the Soviet authorities did not want
the British or the Americans calling them to order. The Zoo Tower was
going to be in the British Sector after all. The art historians had to con¬
vince the generals of the importance of what they were doing. Many of
these senior officers were demontageniki — keener on using their lorries and
railway trucks to ship out whole factories together with any heavy
machines to rebuild the Soviet economy. 3 And there was still a problem:
the flak tower was under Smersh — Military Intelligence — control, and the
culture boffins had no right to remove the objects from it. They had to win
over Marshal Zhukov. This was done by sending Andrei Belokopitov, in
civilian life the director of the Artists’ Theatre in Moscow, to see the mar¬
shal. Zhukov thought the visit was to do with the theatre and received
Belokopitov cordially. When he learned that it was to do with the treasure
in the flak tower, he became angry. Belokopitov told the marshal, however,
‘If this collection falls into the hands of the Americans, you will regret this
mistake.’

Zhukov summoned his adjutant, Antipenko. They would override
Smersh: the culture boffins had twenty-four hours to empty the Zoo
Tower. Belokopitov broke into the conversation: twenty-four hours were
too few, because the objects were very large. Zhukov awarded the boffins
forty-eight and dismissed them. They enlisted a detachment of some 300
experienced pioneers who set about dismantling the Pergamon Altar. They
also loaded 7,000 Greek vases, 1,800 statues, 9,000 antique gems, 6,500
terracotta figures and thousands of objects of lesser value. The bigger job
was finished by the beginning of June. When the Americans arrived they
were told that the altar had been removed undamaged, but that some

383

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Egyptian reliefs and Roman statuary had been smashed, and that a Chinese
bronze gong had rolled away down the stone steps. 4 The largest piece of
booty transported to Russia were the friezes from the Pergamon
Altarpiece, which had been a present to Kaiser William II from the
Ottoman emperor to thank Germany for its help in excavating the site.
The Pergamon Museum had been built up around it.

The greatest tragedy of the sack of Berlin was the fire that took place in
the Control Tower in the Park at Friedrichshain. The huge concrete tower
was abandoned by its defenders on 2 May. Over the next three days it was
picked over by various foreign workers who were chiefly looking for food.
The tower was, however, the temporary repository of the classical antiqui¬
ties from the Berlin museums together with the paintings from the picture
gallery. There were 8,500 objects from the classical collections, as well as
1,500 in glass. Of the 411 canvases, 160 were Italian masters, a quarter of
the total collection, and including works by Fra Angelico and Luca
Signorelli. Italian sculpture was represented by Donatellos Madonna and
Child. There were large works by Rubens, as well as pictures by Chardin,
Zurbaran, Murillo and Reynolds. Of the German works one of the most
famous was Menzels Tafelrunde.

In the night of the 5—6 May the Control Tower burst into flames,
destroying at least some of the art works housed on the first floor. It was
thought that the fire had been started by Germans looking for food.
Someone had the wilder theory that Werewolves had set the tower alight.
Still it was impossible to convince the Russians to guard the tower, and
some time between the 7th and the 15th another fire broke out that
destroyed all that remained. The second fire may have been started by
thieves trying to find valuable works of art, as some artefacts and at least
one picture later materialised on the market. As there was no light in the
tower it was supposed they had lit newspapers in order to see better. When
art historians visited the site a few days later they found that the forced
labourers had already scoured the remains, taking with them fragments of
antique glass and pots. On contact with the air the marble disintegrated in
the hands of the despairing experts. 5

At the beginning of July the Russians took another look at the Control
Tower in Friedrichshain. It was decided to sift through the ruins to see if
there was anything worth retrieving. They filled fifteen chests with broken
antiquities. One of the archaeologists was excited about a strangely shaped
vase he found buried in the ashes. When he had dusted it down he found
that he was holding a Russian bazooka shell that had failed to explode. The
Russian experts knew that it was important to remove anything salvageable

384

LIGHT FINGERS

from the Control Tower before the autumn as the damp air would destroy
the remaining artefacts. The military governor of Berlin, Colonel General
Gorbatov, wrote to Zhukov to this effect, but work did not begin until
December. By March 1946 around 10,000 objects had been dug out. Even
the Americans from the MFAA were able to retrieve a few objects. There
seems to have been little or no security at the tower. 6 More antiquities were
taken from the cellars of the New Mint where they had lain around in
pools of water, in many cases badly damaged. From the Museum Island the
Russians selected fifty-four canvases from the cellars. Among others there
was Goya’s May Pole, and Ghirlandaio’s Christ on the Cross. All the looted
treasure was taken to Schloss Tresckow in Friedrichsfelde or the former
abattoir for shipment back to Russia.

The fate of Hitler continued to trouble the Russians for many months:
was he actually dead? The British too had launched an investigation, with
the historian Hugh Trevor-Roper piecing his last days together. The
Russians had the advantage of possessing the Chancellery, the bunker
and — although they were confused at first — his bones. Trevor-Roper did
not have those, although the picture he drew was substantially correct. 7

Meanwhile the Soviet authorities were falling out over the bones. Stalin
had been informed by Zhukov that Hitler had committed suicide on 30
April. His body and that of his new wife Eva Braun had been dug up in the
garden, in the spot designated by Admiral Voss. As the Smersh soldiers
were not certain that they had the right bodies, they reburied them, only
finally exhuming them on 5 May, when together with the bodies of the
Goebbels children, the chief of staff General Krebs and a couple of dogs,
they were sent to their HQ at Berlin-Buch as important trophies. The
autopsies were performed the next day. Contradictory evidence made the
officers concerned reluctant to send in a final report on the cause of Hitler’s
death. The Soviet authorities preferred the version that had him taking
poison - a cowardly way out. Shooting oneself was a braver, more soldierly
death.

When the Soviets’ Operation Myth was launched in 1946 to establish
the real sequence of events leading to Hitler’s death, some of Hitler’s per¬
sonal staff were brought back to Berlin and the bunker, in order to point
out the precise details of the suicide and subsequent burning in the garden.
The bones, for the time being, were stored in Magdeburg. 8 Of particular
importance were the objects in Hitler’s personal collection. For them an
aircraft was laid on as Stalin wanted his bones examined by his foremost
experts. The Fiihrer’s skull was eventually put into a paper bag and
deposited in the State Archives. The paintings in his private collection were

385

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

taken to the abattoir. 9 The area around the Chancellery remained out of
bounds to Berliners. When Ruth Friedrich poked her nose into the corn
d’lwnneur of the Chancellery in May she saw a Soviet squaddie comfortably
ensconced in an armchair with a machine gun across his knees. 10

At Schloss Sophienhof near Berlin, Russian soldiers destroyed the com¬
plete archive of Wilhelm von Humboldt. Part of the medieval-weapon
collection housed in the Berlin Arsenal was destroyed on orders issued by
the Soviet military authorities. At Karinhall, the house Goring had built for
himself on the site of the the Kaiser’s hunting lodge on the Schorfheide, the
Russians indulged in an orgy of destruction, demolishing statues by Pigalle,
Houdon and Boizo by using them for target practice. The hidden pictures
by Emil Nolde (the Nazis had forbidden Nolde to paint) in Teupitz
Hospital were burned. 11

Not everything was rubbished. In Silesia delighted Russian officials
seized immense numbers of wireless sets. In the villas of prosperous
Silesians well-stocked libraries were found, and 40,000 art books were col¬
lected and despatched back to the Pushkin Museum. In Gleiwitz there was
excitement when a horde of Stradivari and Amati violins was seized, until
it turned out that they were fakes. Silesia, however, was not as rich in arte¬
facts as its soil was fertile. A Kolbe figure was located and appropriated. As
they searched for booty on one estate Soviet art experts found a group of
soldiers about to hang a monkey. The creature was accused of having lifted
its paw in salute when they had shouted ‘Heil Hitler!’ as a joke. The irony
of the monkey’s response had been lost on them. The art historians rescued
the beast and made it their companion. 12

Soviet officers — particularly Lieutenant Yevgeny Ludshuveit — were
credited with saving the Schlosser of Sanssouci (the town palace was
destroyed by British bombs in April). Frederick the Great’s art collection,
however, went east, and a Russian officer is thought to have slashed Philip
de Laszlo’s portrait of William II with a sabre. 13 Most of the Russian energy
went into removing the best parts of the collections they found. In the old
Cistercian monastery at Lehnin they found some stored works of art and
organised their shipment. Frederick the Great’s first palace, Schloss
Rheinsberg, was stripped of its last contents, right down to the painted
over-doors. Viktor Lazarev, however, a professor of art history at Moscow
University, was one who respected the architectural ensemble where pos¬
sible. In Potsdam he advocated leaving paintings, sculpture, chandeliers and
tapestries in situ, when they were conceived as part of the Gesamtkunstwerk.
As many as 60,000 POWs were used in the evacuation of these works of
art, loading them on to 90,000 railway trucks. 14

386

LIGHT FINGERS

Berlin was not the only place rich in art treasure. The Russians had the
run of Saxony and much of Thuringia, not to mention Pomerania and the
prosperous port of Danzig. The electors and kings of Saxony had been
great collectors, and the Dresden Gallery was one of the world’s foremost
art museums. Part of the collection had been stored in a quarry at
Grosscotta near Pirna. Among the paintings there was the Sistine Madonna
by Raphael. The art historian Natalia Sokolova was the first to see the pic¬
tures when a German unlocked the door to the store room.

A simple goods wagon stood in the tunnel. The German handed me the
candle. [LeonidJ Rabinovitch turned on an electric lamp. In this twilight
were glimpsed the gold frames of the pictures, that were tightly packed
together. We turned our lights towards them and I felt I had gone deathly
pale. Before me I could see the broad span of the eagle that bore off
Rembrandt’s Ganymede in its claws. Rabinovitch carefully moved the paint¬
ing to the right, and another appeared.

‘Do you see?’ he whispered. ‘Wonderful,’ said the German . . . what lay
before me was the Sleeping Venus of Giorgione . . . After that came the Self-
Portrait with Saskia by Rembrandt and a small, silvery landscape by Watteau,
a view of Dresden by Canaletto, Titian’s Portrait of a Woman in White . . .

The conditions in the quarry were terrible: it was cold and damp: ‘The
Germans had lost any moral claim to [the pictures]. Now they belonged to
the Red Army.’ There was a fear that they might have to fight the
Americans for them if they did not get them to their collection point at
Schloss Pillnitz as quickly as possible. Marshal Koniev came to inspect the
haul. He was also impressed and telegraphed Stalin to tell him that the
treasure had been found. 15

There was more booty in Schloss Weesenstein. Here the Russians found
the Koenig Collection that had been bought by Prince John George of
Saxony, and forty-five Rembrandt etchings that had belonged to the indus¬
trialist and banker Rudolf Gutmann of Vienna and had since been
earmarked for the Fiihrer’s Museum in Linz. Only one of the etchings had
been detached from the collection: The Jewish Bride was thought to portray
too sensitive a subject. 16

More paintings from the Dresden Gallery were found at Pockau-
Lengefeld by the Czech border in the fortress at Konigstein and some
modern masters in a house in Barnitz. In Meissen orders were given to
restart production of the famous porcelain. This was not possible, however,
as the demontagniki had made off with the equipment. The contents of the
Porcelain Museum as well as some valuable paintings were stored in the
old castle at the top of the hill. Also in Saxony, Leipzig’s most valuable

387

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

collections had been placed in the strongrooms of banks. Nearly a hundred
were found in a vault on the Friedrich-Trondlin-Ring in October. Thirty
more were found in a bank in the Otto-Schill-Strasse. The Russians took
only io per cent of their find home, but that still amounted to over a hun¬
dred paintings. Another fifty-two came from the Coburgs’ Jagdschloss
Reinhardsbrunn and the palace in Dessau. Added to the pictures were
whole libraries from Friedenstein, Gotha and Leipzig. These were taken to
the Academy of Sciences in Moscow, together with the university libraries
from Leipzig and Halle. 17

At the beginning of May a search had been made for the vanished
treasures of Danzig after the Russian shelling of the old city. The hunt
began in the Arsenal, where the Trophy Brigade had to brave the stench of
decomposing corpses to locate their quarry. After two days they found the
hiding place and unearthed treasures from the town hall and the museum.
The best bits went to Russia. A few odds and ends were given to the new
Polish director of the museum. In the ruins of the famous Artushof, they
looked in vain for the fifteenth-century wooden relief of St George. It had
been destroyed in the fire following the shelling. In the wreckage of a bank,
however, they unearthed the coin collection from Marienburg, the fortress
of the Teutonic Knights. 18

The Soviet forces perpetrated all sorts of theft. The most common was
the pillaging which accompanied their arrival and which has never been
accurately assessed. When it is considered that virtually every sewing
machine, every gramophone and every wireless set went east, it can only be
described as looting on a staggering scale. The trophy battalions followed
on the heels of the soldiers who pinched anything that took their fancy. By
2 August 1945 these had seized 1,280,000 tons of material and 3,600,000
tons of equipment. This way they hoped to make good the losses they had
incurred in the war. Officially they claimed the Germans had destroyed
$168 milliard’s worth of equipment, but that figure must also have included
items they destroyed themselves in their retreat. 19

It was not always the Russians who arrived first. The art historian Paul
Ortwin Rave guided the MFAA to Ransbach where the Berlin State
Theatre and the Opera House had stored their costumes. They found the
remains of an orgy that had been enjoyed by Russian and Polish workers
and prisoners together. Once their German guards had run off they had
broken into the cases and dressed themselves up in costumes from Aida and
Lohengrin. They had also found a hidden fund of champagne and cognac.
In their drunken state they had broken into cases containing Diirers and
Holbeins, but at the sight of the saints they had fled in holy terror. The

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LIGHT FINGERS

Americans took the prize to Frankfurt in their zone. It was they who
located the treasure in Altaussee, as well as parts of Goring’s collection,
including the sixteen cases which the Reichsmarshall had grabbed from
among the pictures stored in the Benedictine monastery of Monte Cassino
and which the Germans had taken into safe keeping before the British
destroyed the building. 20

Franz Sayn-Wittgenstein recalled examples of the Americans’ cupidity
in their zone. He was staying in his wife’s family mansion, Budingen,
when the US governor of Hessen, Newman, sent word to requisition
silver and furniture for his palace. They fobbed him off with tableware,
which was later returned. In June 1946 Clay rebutted a charge of looting
made against some of his soldiers who were accused of stealing six paint¬
ings. 21 Easier to verify was the theft of the Quedlinburg Bibles by
American soldiers in Thuringia. 22 The American commander in Budingen
was a Captain Robinson, who swiped five pictures from the Stadel Gallery
in Frankfurt. ‘Robinson revealed himself as nothing more than a common
thief.’ They were traced as far as Holland, whence they were in all proba¬
bility shipped to the United States. They were put up for sale many years
later, and the Stadel was able to buy them back. 23 Most American cases
were restricted to petty larceny out of a desire for souvenirs, though occa¬
sionally a shop was looted for objects like cameras. GIs had a passion for
Nazi artefacts only equalled by the Soviet soldateska — as they advanced
through Germany they trashed each SS barracks in the pursuit of flags and
swastikas. There was also a celebrated case when two officers of the
Women’s Army Corps were tried for stealing $1,500,000 worth ofjewellery
from Princess Mary of Hesse, a fantastic sum then. 24

Captain Frank M. Dunbaugh took the 50,000 tin and lead soldiers that
were the pride of the Hirtenmuseum in Hersbruck in Franconia. They
represented the armies that went to war in 1914. In an effort to relocate the
soldiers the town contacted President Eisenhower, who promised his sup¬
port. Some 500 of the figures were tracked down in Texas. When
Dunbaugh was asked his excuse for ‘liberating’ them he replied that it was
to ‘deglamorize the Hitler war machine in every way possible’. Theft was
therefore justified byJCS 1067. In 1958 another 20,000 of the soldiers were
located and eventually shipped back to Hersbruck. An attempt to force the
Americans to compensate the museum for the rest fell on deaf ears. 25

The Americans were not all thieves. In Wiesbaden they organised a
Central Collecting Point for Jewish paintings and books stolen by the
Nazis. It was run by Theodor ‘Ted’ Heinrich, later professor of art history
at the University of Toronto. Surviving Jews could apply to retrieve their

389

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

belongings there. The Americans also located a favourite grey that had
belonged to Queen Wilhelmina of Holland and which had been seized by
the Germans during the occupation of her country. In the confusion at the
end of the war, the horse had been given to a circus. The Americans
returned the animal to its mistress who had it saddled in order to form part
of a parade. When the music struck up, the horse got up on its hind legs
and began to dance, a trick it had learned in the circus. Her majesty was
not amused and the horse was put out to grass. 26 Queen Wilhelmina might
have been more grateful that the horse had not been eaten by hungry
Germans or DPs. In Munich Carl Zuckmayer reported that Poles had
stolen the world’s sole porcine tightrope walker, once the pride of Althof s
travelling circus — they had then slaughtered it and had it for dinner. When
the owner tried to prevent the Poles from killing his beloved pig he nearly
lost his own life as well. Althof had had the hog insured abroad and appar¬
ently received no compensation for his loss. 27

There were acts of common theft perpetrated by the British too. At the
Krupp residence, Villa Hrigel in Essen, an inquiry carried out in 1952
revealed that property valued at two million marks had been purloined
during the occupation. Much of it was later found in Holland, where it
was waiting to cross the Channel. The greatest scandal surrounding the
British Zone was the use of Schloss Brickeburg, home of the Schaumburg-
Lippe family, by the RAF. The process was begun by Air Marshal Sir
Arthur Coningham, whom the art historian Ellis Waterhouse compared to
Goring in his acquisitiveness. Coningham removed and distributed enor¬
mous quantities of valuable silver, furnishings and objets d’art from the
Schloss, and much of it later remained unaccounted for. The affair led to
the resignation of the military governor, Marshal of the RAF Sir Sholto
Douglas. 28

The British lagged behind the Russians and the Americans in purloin¬
ing art works, but they had their own brand of organised theft in T-Force,
which sought to glean any industrial wizardry hatched under the Nazis and
bring it home to Britain. The Russians and the Americans were equally
guilty on this score, but, as George Clare puts it, they ‘preferred the inven¬
tors to the inventions’, while the British were too hard up to feed their
boffins. In Cuxhaven, however, they learned what they could about the
workings of the V2, and they made off with all the German naval equip¬
ment they could find. One of the things that Clare saw at the Askanier
Works when he was interpreting there was a prototype tape recorder. 29 In
January 1947 the British launched Operation Matchbox designed to lure
German scientists to their zone, but they were even less efficient than the

390

LIGHT FINGERS

French; and the Americans had the pick of them. 30 As one American put
it, ‘The British and the Russians have got hold of a few German scien¬
tists . . . but there can be no doubt that we have captured the best.’ 31

The Allies stole men and women who for one reason or another were
useful for their projects. Under the pretext of accusing them of seeking to
develop an atomic bomb, bacterial warfare, space travel and guided missiles,
the British and Americans arrested a number of nuclear physicists and had
them brought to England in what was meant to be a species of joint enter¬
prise. 32 These included Carl Friedrich von Weizsacker, Otto Flahn, Werner
Fleisenberg and Max von Laue. With the exception of Fleisenberg, the
men were found in Hechingen in Wiirttemberg, where they had been
working on their uranium piles, drawn from the mines of Joachimsthal in
the Sudetenland. Heisenberg was discovered in his family skiing chalet in
Upper Bavaria. Others, such as Richard Kuhn and Wolfgang Gertner,
were apprehended in Heidelberg. Some of the smaller fry were taken by
the British in Hamburg.

Once the team had been assembled they were brought first to France,
initially to Rheims and Versailles, before being lodged in a villa in the Paris
suburb of Le Vesinet. They were eventually delivered to Farm Hall near
Cambridge, where they were perceived to have nothing in common bar
the title Herr Doktor ‘by which they punctiliously addressed one another’. 33
Once the Anglo-Americans had learned everything they could about the
Nazi atom-bomb programme they were released in Hamburg and
Gottingen, but told not to stray into the Soviet Zone. That was also for
their own safety. The Russians were keen to abduct or simply tempt away
scientists and technicians who might have been useful to them. The Nobel
Prize-winning physicist Gustav Hertz was taken to Russia to help them
develop nuclear weapons. On 21 October 1945 a large number of skilled
workers, technicians and scientists were freighted out by train. The Western
powers made a weak protest, which the Russians simply ignored. 34

39i

Where are our Men?

The only thing I know for certain is that the prisoners-of-war are
dying of hunger and that the field in which they have to sleep is hell¬
ish damp.

Ernst von Salomon, The Answers, London 1954, 423

The Status of German POWs

T he history of the German POWs is murky, largely because the West,
by acting in an inhumane manner, lost the moral high ground they
had achieved by fighting a moral crusade against the Nazis, but also because
the German Federal Republic has allowed it to remain shrouded in dark¬
ness.

Around eight million German soldiers were captured at the end of the
war — making a total, if you add those taken before May 1945, of around
eleven million. This meant that every household in Germany was affected
in some way; and the women were asking, ‘Where are our men?’ 1 The
Western Allies captured some 7.6 million, while the rest fell into the hands
of the Red Army. About five of the eleven million were released within a
year. A million and a half, however, never came home, giving rise to a
number of stories of how they met their end. Some writers have averred
that they were all killed in captivity, and that it was a deliberate policy on
the part of the Allies. The only figures that exist refer to the ‘missing’. The
Red Cross gives their number as 1,086,000. A more reliable tally would be
1.3 million in the east (including Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia and Poland)
and around 100,000 in the west. 2

Until 8 May 1945, the Swiss had been responsible for German prison¬
ers of war. On that day they packed their bags — the Allies had decided that
the German Empire had ceased to exist. The German army had ‘uncon¬
ditionally surrendered’ and the new prisoners were now at the mercy of

392

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

their captors, without recourse to protection by a neutral state. Two new
terms — strange to the Geneva Convention - were created to describe the
newly captured soldiers: they were ‘Surrendered Enemy Persons’ and
‘Disarmed Enemy Persons’. POW status, as regulated by the Geneva and
Hague Conventions, accounted for 4.2 million men who had been caught
in the net earlier. The other 3.4 million in the West were SEPs or DEPs
and were not entitled to the same levels of shelter and subsistence. 3 The
Soviet Union had never signed the Geneva Convention, so the Red Cross
never had any jurisdiction there; they were not POWs, or anything else for
that matter. Their fate was often a matter of complete indifference to the
Soviet authorities. The change in terminology is significant. The men had
been robbed of their status as combatants, which left them open to prose¬
cution, an outcome excluded by the Geneva and Hague Conventions. It
presaged new uses for the men, who were to be put to work. With the
exception of the Americans, the Allies all envisaged a prolonged use of
German slave labour. While the International Red Cross had a right to
inspect POW camps, the barbed wire surrounding SEPs or DEPs was
impenetrable. 4

The idea of using the POWs as slaves was aired at Moscow in 1943. The
originators of the proposal were the British. At Yalta it was decided that the
men could be made to repair the damage Germany had caused to the
Allies. They were to be a ‘work force’ and were to be retained for an indef¬
inite period. It was at that moment that it became clear that their status
would have to be changed to get round the Geneva Convention. Once
again it was the British who were most keen — the proposal was put for¬
ward before the full horror of the concentration camps was known. It was
to have another advantage — the British could evade another of the
Convention’s stipulations, the requirement that they provide 2,000 to 3,000
calories a day. From the first day of peace the British would have had
immense problems supplying that amount, and for most of the time levels
fell below 1,500 calories. The more prosperous Americans were for rapid
demobilisation and for adherence to the Convention. 3 There was no prece¬
dent either for the rough treatment of high-ranking officers. In the view of
the Allies, German generals were complicit in war crimes and thereby lost
their usual privileges. This was decided before any crime had been proven.
There were generals’ camps in South Wales and Russia, and there was
rumoured to be a third near Nuremberg,* in close proximity to the court¬
house. 6 They were not treated as badly as the hoi polloi, however. In

* Almost certainly Langwasser. See below p. 403.

393

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Wales the German general officers had a small number of privileges, and in
Soviet Russia they were exempted from work.

That the Allies should conspire to rob prisoners of their status was out¬
rageous; to treat them with so little care that a million and a half died was
scandalous. The Russian attitude is understandable, though not forgivable:
the Germans had systematically killed three million of their Russian pris¬
oners.* But this could not be claimed for Western POWs. Indeed the
Malmedy trial of those accused of massacring American soldiers during the
Battle of the Bulge and the quest for the killers of the fifty British airmen
who had taken part in the Great Escape from a Silesian POW camp show
quite clearly how rare it was that the Germans ill-treated American and
British POWs. That the Americans should have pursued the perpetrators
of the killing of a hundred or so soldiers with such ruthlessness while at the
same time allowing anything up to 40,000 German soldiers to die from
hunger and neglect in the muddy flats of the Rhine was an act of mind-
boggling hypocrisy.

In parts of Europe the sight of a German POW became an everyday
occurrence. In Britain these dishevelled figures often prompted acts of
generosity, despite the fact that only a few months before British towns and
cities were being wrecked by German bombs. In France and elsewhere
German slave-labourers sometimes had a quite different effect. It was not
money the local people threw at them but bricks, stones and — in at least
one instance — grenades. The horrors of the war were fresh in the minds of
the people. Many had been wounded themselves, physically or emotionally.
‘What did the hunger, misery, sickness or death of a German POW
matter?’ In Russia that feeling would have been particularly widespread. 7

Another novelty was the leasing of prisoners to other powers. The
Anglo-Americans handed over around a million German soldiers to the
French to help rebuild their country. The Belgians were given 30,000 by
the Americans and another 34,000 by the British, the Dutch had 10,000
and the Luxembourgeois 5,000. 8 The Soviet Union gave about 80,000
Germans to the Poles, who hung on to some of them until as late as 1953.
Germans worked Europe’s mines and sawmills and factories; they laid
roads and did menial chores in France, Poland and Yugoslavia. In Britain
they harvested potatoes and turnips. German soldiers were imprisoned in
some twenty countries around the world.

Those left on German soil after the summer of 1945 were only a small

* The Russians were quite capable of doing this too: at Katyn they murdered a large per¬
centage of the Polish officer corps.

394

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

fraction of the total number ofPOWs. The Americans, for example, used
their German camps for political prisoners and those awaiting trial or
denazification. Like the British and the Russians, they tended to use the
old concentration camps to house prisoners. Usually there was decent
accommodation for the GIs in the neighbouring SS barracks. Any attempt
to feed the prisoners by the German civilian population was punishable by
death. It is not clear how many German soldiers died of starvation. Very
soon people were comparing the conditions in American and French
camps with those in the Nazi concentration camps. The psychoanalyst
Alexander Mitscherlich, who examined former POWs, learned that they
were prone to compare themselves to Hitler’s victims, and to accuse the
Allies of hypocrisy in their stories of German atrocities. 9

On io December 1946, the industrious Cardinal Frings (he had received
his red hat earlier that year) delivered a petition to the Control Council in
Berlin. Ten million people had demanded the release of the POWs or
Kriegsgefangener. At the Moscow Conference in 1947 it was decided that the
Allies would send all prisoners home by the end of 1948. At that point the
Soviets admitted to holding 890,532 (although the real figure might have
been nearer to three million), the French 631,483; there were 435,295 in
British hands, 300,000 in the Balkans, 54,000 in Belgium, 30,976 in
American custody and 10,000 in Holland. 10 In the middle of 1948 the
number ofPOWs yet to come home stood at one million. The return was
agreed by the Western Allies, the Czechs and the Yugoslavs (who subse¬
quently reneged on the deal), but not by the Russians and the Poles. That
Christmas 1948 date decided the category of prisoner in the minds of the
German public: a Spdtheimkehrer (late homecomer) was released between

1949 and 1950. A Spdtestheimkehrer (latest homecomer) returned between

1950 and 1956.“ In 1979 there were believed to be 72,000 prisoners still
alive in — chiefly Russian — custody. 12

It was Adenauer who was the first German politician openly to raise the
problem in 1950. Addressing the Bundestag, he called for an end to
France’s cruel treatment of its German POWs — who had, in fact, all gone
home. The Yugoslavs were also singled out, and the German chancellor
added that it was horrifying that several hundred thousand German men,
women and children were still in Russia and Poland five and a half years
after the end of the fighting. He could think of no parallel in history for
such ‘cold heartlessness’. Even such strong words failed to deliver all the
goods. It was Adenauer’s visit to Moscow that finally brought home almost
all the last survivors, at the end of 1956. 13

Adenauer’s successors were more faint-hearted. In 1957 a wide-ranging

395

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

academic study of the treatment of the German POWs was commissioned
by the Federal Republic. The project allowed for fifteen separate studies in
twenty-two volumes. The work was ready by the mid-1970s. In the mean¬
time, however, Bonn had had a change of heart. It was the time of Willy
Brandt s Ostpolitik - an attempt to link hands through the Iron Curtain; the
Oder—Neisse Line was recognised in the West for the first time. The pub¬
lication of a work of this sort would, they feared, upset relations with
Russia and Poland. No names were mentioned in the texts, and much of
the material was returned to the archives. The book was quietly issued, but
only for ‘official use’. Just 431 copies were printed: 391 for the Federal
Republic, and 40 for abroad. The FRG made it clear to all the recipients
that access was to be made difficult. 14 *

This coyness on the part of the Bonn government added fuel to the fire.
In 1989 the Canadian journalist James Bacque published Other Losses in
which he claimed the French and the Americans had killed a million
POWs. It was called a work of ‘monstrous speculation’ 15 and was dis¬
missed by an American historian as an ‘absurd thesis’. 16 Bacque’s book
printed some evocative drawings made of the Rheinwiesenlager, and
asserted, as was probably true, that thirty to forty Germans died every day
in Rheinberg. 17 ’! Part of the problem was the little care taken by the
Western Allies in registering the prisoners and the destruction of
Wehrmacht records. The transfer of POWs from one nation to another
often meant they were counted twice. The final number of deaths will
never be known, but it has since been proved that Bacque misinterpreted
the words ‘other losses’ on Allied charts to mean ‘deaths’, when it was in
fact an oblique reference to prisoners who, for one reason or another, were
no longer of interest to the statisticians: deaths, yes, but also deserters,
Volksturm and other categories who were released without receiving a
formal discharge. 18

Bacque’s red herring had a positive result, however, in that it pointed out
that it was not just the Russians who killed prisoners of war. The Russians
were still the worst, but who was the second worst? The Yugoslavs killed
as many as 80,000 prisoners of war, which, given the numbers they started
with, must put them in second place. About 2.5 per cent of all the
Germans in French custody died, a figure that is proportionally far higher
than the American tally.

* In the British Library, for example, the books are stored under the ‘Cup’ shelfmark, nor¬
mally reserved for pornography, and users of the books are required to sit at a special table
where they can be monitored more closely,
f For Rheinwiesenlager and Rheinberg, see below pp. 398—400.

396

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

The American Camps

The Americans honoured their promise to release prisoners early. The
idea of slave labour was not popular with their trade unions. Men and
women over fifty were let go in June and they made a great flourish by
releasing two million prisoners at the end ofjuly 1945. Some came home
in triumph like the 12,000 prisoners returned to Austria. 19 The reality for
a further 1.5 million men was anything but liberty, however: they were
promptly ‘loaned’ to other powers — France and the United Kingdom. 20
The Americans even offered some men to the Russians. They refused, as
they had enough already. 21 Also many SS men were retained to help with
further inquiries. Later the ‘grey’ or Waffen-SS were allowed to go home,
while the ‘black’ or Totenkopf units were put on trial. Deaths on the
American continent were low: 491, with seventy-two suicides, seven mur¬
ders, fourteen men executed and seventy fatal accidents. 22

The first Kriegsgefangener had been shipped back to America during the
war. One of these was Kurt Glaser, who was in a large camp in Texas. The
inmates worked in nearby factories, where their status was similar to that of
the local blacks. The food was decent, and, it being America, there were
frequent film shows. Not long after the end of the war a man speaking
German with a Frankfurt accent came to interrogate Glaser. He asked
him how it had been for him under National Socialism. Glaser replied,
‘Nicht schlecht’ (Not bad). He then saw his interrogator circle the word
‘Nazi’ on his questionnaire. For inveterate Nazis like Glaser there was a
new diet of propaganda. He had to watch a film entitled Deutschland
erwache! (Germany awake! - the title of an early Nazi song). It was about
Belsen and Buchenwald. In July 1946 he was shipped to Britain. 23

Another account tells a similar tale of a more literary prisoner in an
American camp. The news that reached him on 6 May 1945 led him to
quote some lines from Thomas Mann: ‘The fate of the most repulsive
monster of our time, National Socialism, has been fulfilled. Had its death
struggle been confined to its person, and not at the same time to a great
and unfortunate nation, which now does penance for its bewitchment, we
might be able to observe the catastrophe with cold satisfaction, for the sake
of law and necessity.’ 24

When he was not working alongside southern blacks, the prisoner lived
on a diet of films. On 9 May he could watch the celebrations marking the
end of the war while his stomach rumbled. The inmates had just 2,000
calories a day, although the work details had 3,500 to 4,000. In a few

397

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

months he would have learned to appreciate what he had. Instead of the
usual cinematographic diet of Hollywood oaters, the prisoner now had to
watch more and more propaganda. He learned new names besides
Dachau — Buchenwald was unknown to him. He concluded that it was ‘a
Kulturschan.de of the first water, but what can I do about it? I am a German
and I share in the guilt.’ He was obliged to go and look at the pictures of
‘his’ victims. A guard with a truncheon stood over him. He felt he needed
to wear a ‘consciousness of guilt’ expression as he leafed through the evi¬
dence of German crime. Then he signed a list stating that he had been
aware of Buchenwald after all 25 * - anything to get them off his back.

The most notorious American POW camps were the so-called
Rheinwiesenlager. When these were closed some of the prisoners were
transferred to the camp at Mons in Belgium and were able to tell their
fellow countrymen about the conditions they had experienced. They had
been pushed into large, open areas by the banks of the Rhine, described as
‘concentration areas’ or PWTE — ‘Prisoner of War Temporary Enclosures’. 26
The Americans had burned their kit, so they had nothing to protect them
from the elements. April and May 1945 were particularly cold and wet, and
there was plenty of snow. The soldiers were forced to endure this in open
fields without tents; ‘many dug holes in the earth with a spoon or a tin can
or whatever was to hand, but with the constant rain the ground was
soft and every night the holes collapsed and the people who had sought
protection from them were buried. There was no night that passed that did
not see the deaths of several men on the meadows.’ 27

The prisoners in Mons learned of the two most infamous camps,
Rheinberg and Biiderich. At its height the first contained 90,000 men.
Biiderich was slightly smaller with 77,000. If all twelve camps established by
the Rhine and Nahe between May and July 1945 are taken together, the
number of inmates was around a million men. They stretched from
Diisseldorf in the north to Mannheim in the south, with the main con¬
centration between Koblenz and Mainz. At Bad Kreuznach on the Nahe,
the site of the camp was occasionally given as the ‘Galgenberg’ or ‘Gallows
Hill’, although it is more likely that it was laid out between the railway line
and the river. The camp at Remagen was arranged along a five-by-two-
kilometre stretch of the river. Between the two camps at Remagen and
Sinzig there were 400,000 prisoners. The Americans abandoned the camps
in July. Britain was given Rheinberg, Biiderich and Wickramberg, and the

* Incidentally a very National Socialist method of preventing anyone from opting out of dif¬
ficult decisions.

398

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

French Bad Kreuznach-Bretzenheim, Sinzig, Andernach and Koblenz.
The others were in the American Zone anyhow. 28

In order to receive their rations the men had to walk along a slippery,
muddy passage. Two tins were then tossed to them. Those who fell while
trying to catch them were beaten with truncheons. Anyone caught steal¬
ing food had to eat himself sick. In another instance the thief was forced to
eat all he had stolen covered with sugar. The prisoners discussed the merits
of the different Allies: ‘In general it was best to be with the English.’ That
guaranteed ‘decent treatment’. 29

The Rhine Meadow camps operated from February to July, with the
worst outrages ending with the war, in May. Those hard-won tins were not
enough — for the prisoners they were ‘hunger camps’. The writer John Dos
Passos, who was shown round the camps, came to the conclusion that the
Germans were being deliberately starved. They were also systematically
robbed of their wristwatches, cameras and any Nazi souvenirs the guards
fancied. The men were deprived of anything they had on them when they
arrived. In the circumstances prisoners showed they could be resourceful.
Writing letters was prohibited to DEPs — as they were called here - but a
postal service grew up for all that. A prisoner cut through the wire and
escaped with the post. He would pick up supplies and slip back through the
wires. 30

It has been difficult to come to a reliable estimate of the number of
Germans who died in the Rhine mud. The American figures do not even
tally with the graves in the local cemeteries. The Americans admit to
2,310 by the end of May and 5,912 to July. The German tally is 32,000.
Graves indicate nearly 2,000 prisoners died in the shadow of the vineyards
in Bad Kreuznach; the Americans admit to just over half that number. In
Rheinberg, where 140,000 Germans were crammed into 1,000 hectares of
mud during the months it was open, the official figures account for 438
deaths. The real number might be between two and three thousand now
that mass graves have been found within the camp. The total number of
deaths in the Rhine Meadows is now thought to be as high as 40,000. 31

The picture is complicated by the fact that the Americans may well have
released all their Wehrmacht prisoners early — or lent them to others — but
that rule did not apply to SS men and political prisoners. They came
under the category of‘Automatic Arrests’ or AAs. A POW or DEP could
be released from custody and automatically rearrested on suspicion of
being a Nazi or a member of the SS. The Americans maintained camps for
up to 1.5 million of these. 32 As well as the AAs there were STs (Security
Threats) from the Gestapo and the Sicherheitsdienst, BLs (Black-Listed

399

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

men) and WCs (war criminals). 33 At Ebensee in Austria there were 44,000
SS men behind barbed wire, watched over by Polish KZler in one of
Mauthausen’s most gruesome former dependencies. 34

The Americans believed they had a case against the writer Ernst von
Salomon, and he tells us what it was like to be at the receiving end. They
came for him at 6.00 a.m. at his home in Siegsdorf near Salzburg where he
lived with his mistress, Ille Gotthelft. Two men called Murphy and Sullivan
told him that he was to be interrogated across the border in Kitzblihel.
They told Salomon it was because he was ‘a big Nazi’. When Ille protested
that she was Jewish, they took her as well. Even if the two men had no
knowledge of who Salomon was on their arrival, they could have gleaned
it as they went through the books in his workroom. It was clear that they
assumed that only a Nazi would have been involved in the killing of the
Jewish foreign minister Walther Rathenau in 1922. His mistress’s protests
must have been seen as at best irrelevant, at worst a he. She suffered for her
temerity, and was only released when she came close to death though
sickness.

When they arrived in Kitzbiihel they were put in the town lock-up.
Salomon was philosophical. In his salad days he had seen the inside of sev¬
eral prisons, but he worried about his mistress, who had managed to live
through the Third Reich without incarceration, and was now being sub¬
jected to that indignity by the Americans. Kitzbiihel prison was filled with
Party officials who were routinely beaten black and blue during interroga¬
tion. If Salomon was right it was policy to give them all a ‘work-over’
before returning them to their cells. Salomon was not interrogated in the
prison, but taken to the US army HQ in the town, ‘which I now discov¬
ered to be an American Gestapo-type operation’. 35 He was questioned by
a German-speaker who revealed that his parents were artists in Dresden,
and Party members. He did not want to believe that Salomon had not been
a member. He knew all about the Rathenau murder: ‘lucky for you you
did not try to conceal it!’ ‘My dear sir, I’ve written books about it this
thick.’ 36

Salomon’s answers were not good enough. He and Ille were put in a
lorry and driven to an internment camp he calls ‘Natternberg’ in Lower
Bavaria. On the way they picked up other ‘big Nazis’ like a Herr Allin who
had been arrested because he had averred in a private conversation with a
friend in a cafe in Kufstein that Poland had started the war. 37 When they
reached the camp they were driven through the gates with cries of ‘Mak
snell!’ (sic) and made to line up. When their names were called out they
were chased one by one into a hut, beaten with rifle butts, stripped, kicked

400

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

and punched in the groin while American soldiers fought for space at the
windows outside. The internationally acclaimed author was treated no
better. Lieutenant ‘Baybee’, the officer sitting at the desk, shouted at him:
‘You are a Nazi!’ Once again Salomon denied it. He was beaten up, losing
several teeth. 38

His mistress was called to the hut. From where he stood he could see
soldiers jostling for places at the window. She had been forced to strip and
subjected to an intimate examination to make sure she was concealing
nothing about her person. The ‘work-over’ was the prelude to an ordeal
that lasted for months, and in some cases years. There were no exceptions -
not even generals were immune, although one SS-Standartenfuhrer who
had ‘solved the Jewish question’ in Hungary with singular efficiency was
treated with awe and absolved from the usual beating. As it transpired, once
a prisoner was officially marked down as a ‘war criminal’, the physical
abuse ceased. The higher judicial authority would certainly have learned of
any beatings. This sort of rough handling was reserved for those the
Americans deemed obscure or defenceless, not for Goring or Ribbentrop.
There were too many journalists buzzing around the courthouse in
Nuremberg.

For the mere soldiers the treatment was less brutal, but could be just as
deadly. Hans Johnert was taken prisoner by a GI on 9 April 1945. The sol¬
dier snatched his watch and threw away his mess tin: ‘Kriegst du alles
neu!’ (You’ll get new ones!). He was taken to the Bavarian spa town of Bad
Kissingen and given a tin of beans with bits of meat in it. Then he was
transferred to the Pioneers’ Barracks in Worms, where the gloves came off.
There were 30,000—40,000 prisoners sitting in the courtyard, jostling for
space. With no protection against the rain they froze. They went from
Worms to France. As their convoy arrived on French soil, French civilians
threw stones and lumps of coal at them. A black guard had to fire his
weapon to keep them at bay. 39

Behind bars back at Natternberg the violence slackened off, but did not
die out. One memorable day the prisoners had to run the gauntlet — a pun¬
ishment that had made the Prussians infamous in their time. The prisoners
were called out in alphabetical order. The Americans formed two lines and
the men ran between them while they rained down blows with rubber
truncheons. Salomon noted that the elderly were the hardest hit, because
they moved most slowly. Once again it was a Polish sergeant who was most
feared for his brutality. He was in the middle of one of the rows. When L
was called out it was the turn of Hanns Ludin, Hitler’s ambassador to
Slovakia. Ludin was determined to drink his cup down to the dregs. He

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walked slowly through the ranks. ‘When he reached the Polish sergeant he
lost one of his wooden shoes. He turned about and with his bare foot
fished for the shoe he had lost. The sergeant ran after him, striking him,
and dropped his rubber truncheon. Ludin leaned down, picked it up and
handed it back to him. 40 The physical maltreatment of the inmates came to
an end only when General Patton sent up a colonel to inspect the camp.
After that the prisoners received proper rations and medical treatment. The
earlier violence was attributable to JCS 1067, and ultimately to
Morgenthau. 41

The writer records plenty of cases of theft, the Americans being espe¬
cially keen to steal porcelain. ‘Baybee’ had the women brought to his hut
at night and bribed them with food, drink and cigarettes to sleep with him.
There was a lighter side of camp-life that developed with time - cabarets,
concerts, operatic performances, abstruse lectures, even theatre. It was
Salomon who directed the plays. The most senior prisoner was Graf Lutz
von Schwerin von Krosigk. He had been transferred from Hersbruck.
Schwerin von Krosigk had had a deal of incarceration since he left
Flensburg, and it was not going to stop for a while yet.

From Mondorf les Bains he had been transferred to Oberursel, which
the prisoners called ‘Alaska’ because it was so cold and uninviting. He had
met the pilot Hanna Reitsch there, and Percy Schramm, the military his¬
torian. The inmates were known as ‘Gandhis’ because they were so
emaciated. During his first stay in Langwasser in Nuremberg, he was
friends with the Austrian general Glaise von Horstenau, until he commit¬
ted suicide. Then he reached Plattling, where Salomon now was, and he
was able to fill Salomon in on the treatment he had received from the
British at Flensburg. 42 Salomon obviously admired Schwerin von Krosigk,
as many others did. The ex-minister became the apologist for the regime
in a series of lectures delivered to the other prisoners: ‘He spoke like a pro¬
fessor of history, in a calm, agreeable, careful, highly educated voice, each
sentence well-rounded and deliberate. He covered the whole wretched
story, from the day he entered Briining’s cabinet* as a minister to the atro¬
cious end.’ 43

From Plattling, Schwerin von Krosigk was transferred to Ludwigsburg,
where he was reacquainted with his cousin, Bodo von Alvensleben, the
former president of the Herrenklub in Berlin. The Herrenklub was the
city’s most aristocratic club, and Franz von Papen was a member. It was at

* Schwerin von Krosigk was a ministerial director — or under-secretary of state — in
Briining s government. He entered the cabinet under Papen.

402

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

the Herrenklub that it was decided to allow Hitler to become chancellor —
the distinguished gentlemen thought they could control him. Alvensleben
joked that the reason he was in Ludwigsburg was that he was Hitler’s
grandmother: he had admitted Papen, who had admitted Hitler. The next
stop for Schwerin von Krosigk was Dachau, before he was returned to
Alaska. While he was in Dachau he learned that the Poles were demand¬
ing his extradition, because as minister of finance he had introduced Reich
taxes into Poland. 44 After that the Americans transferred him to
Nuremberg for his trial.

Another distinguished German who languished in a POW camp was
Carl Schmitt (not to be confused with the post-war conservative politician
Carlo Schmid), who was at one time known as the ‘crown jurist of the
Third Reich’, although he fell foul of the regime before the war, and
before the Final Solution was put into effect. The Americans had him
locked up, and were anxious to have him put on trial at Nuremberg.
Schmitt was interrogated, and not let go until 1947. 45

The end of Salomon’s ordeal was Langwasser, which was set up in the
incomplete buildings of the Nazi Party Conference in Nuremberg. The
prisoners were beaten and harried from Plattling to the train. Salomon pro¬
tected himself with a bundle of blankets, but another was not so lucky:

In front of me an old man fell, his cap was snatched from his head, and I rec¬
ognized the elderly, white-haired conductor of the Bayreuth orchestra,
Professor Reinhardt. The Americans were beating him, but two other
American soldiers sprang forward and helped him to his feet. ‘So there are
decent individuals among them,’ I thought to myself. Then I saw the two
warm-hearted GIs cut the string with which the professor had tied his
violin to the top of his pack. The road was several miles long. 46

Another Langwasser inmate was Franz von Papen. After being sen¬
tenced to eight years’ hard labour he had gone straight from the court to a
hospital in Frirth. When that closed he was packed off to Garmisch-
Partenkirchen and then Regensburg. While he was in Regensburg he was
set upon by an SS man in the washhouse who beat him bloody, fracturing
his nose and cheekbone and splitting his lips and eyelids. He was sewn up
by another prisoner, a surgeon. Papen says he was singled out for special
treatment. Meanwhile he was convinced that the right way to get out was
to appeal for a shorter sentence rather than a retrial, which might have
taken years to bring about. 47

Once in Langwasser the prisoners were starved once more. There was
an army kitchen near by, and when the wind blew in the right direction

403

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

there was a delicate aroma of dried fruit. Every now and then they were
slipped something by the cooks, ‘negro soldiers, good-natured boys with
whom the SS got on very well. “You second-class, me second-class,” they
would say, and they would give us food whenever they dared.’ Albert
Speer attested to the particular kindness of black American guards at
Nuremberg. 48 Langwasser had gathered up all the senior Nazis and generals
who were awaiting trail at Nuremberg. They signed a ‘golden book’ from
the Langwasser Theatre. Salomon noticed some of the other names:
Schwerin von Krosigk, who had written something in Latin or Greek,
Field Marshals von Manstein (‘For us the Reich must endure . . .’) and von
Brauchitsch (‘Keep the sunshine in your heart, whether it snow or
hail ...’). It was the signal for Salomon’s release. The order sheet was
headed ‘Subject: Release of erroneous arrestees’. 49

The camps described by Salomon were not a figment of his imagin¬
ation. In the spring of 1946 the former concentration camp dependency of
Plattling contained 2,786 inmates and 1,464 foreigners of eleven national¬
ities; Langwasser was much bigger with 11,761 Germans and 1,389
foreigners from the same number of countries. For some reason Salomon
chose to disguise the name of his first camp. This was almost certainly
Auerbach on the far side of Deggendorf, which had 10,488 prisoners and
238 foreigners, as well as a women’s section. 50 Another notorious camp was
Zuffenhausen near Ludwigsburg in Wiirttemberg. Otto Kumm, the last
commander of the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler, recalled the conditions: no
food to speak of, wooden planks for beds, ‘some of us were so under¬
nourished that we could hardly get up’. For months lunch was turnip
soup, with half a potato for dinner. ‘Deliberately they collected heaps of
food outside the fence, which was burnt once a month in front of our
eyes.’ 51

The long arm of American retribution spared no one; not even the
princes. One of those whose spirit was broken in an American compound
was the Kaiser’s Nazi son Augustus William, or ‘Auwi’. He was taken
prisoner at the retirement home of his grandmother Empress ‘Vicky’ of
Great Britain — Kronberg near Frankfurt-am-Main. He was in a pitiful
state, but there were no medicaments to treat him. The Americans dragged
him through thirty-three camps and prisons, where he slept on the ground,
and denied him even the Bible to read. His sister Princess Victoria visited
him in a camp near Stuttgart. She found him sitting outside a hut looking
very thin. She was able to visit him again as a result of a theft at Kronberg,
when some of the booty had been traced to America. Auwi was required
to make a statement about the missing objects. He spent a short time after

404

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

his release in Langenburg, in one of the castles of the Hohenlohes, and, for
want of anywhere else to bury a Prussian prince, he was interred in the
Hohenlohe family mausoleum there. 52

Another prominent American prisoner was Prince Philip of Hesse.
Philip had already suffered a good deal. He had been arrested on Hitlers
orders following Mussolini’s fall in 1943 and incarcerated in Flossenbiirg in
the Upper Palatinate. His wife Mafalda, daughter of the Italian king, was
sent to Buchenwald, where she died from injuries sustained in an Allied
air-raid. He was liberated in the South Tyrol with other prominent pris¬
oners in April 1945, but the Americans had not finished with him. Philip
had been an early member of the Nazi Party and the SA and the Nazi
president of Hesse-Nassau. They hauled him through twenty more camps
and prisons before he was released on New Year’s Day 1948. He died in
Rome in 1980. 53

The art historian Prince Franz zu Sayn-Wittgenstein took refuge at the
Schloss of his brother-in-law Prince Ysenburg at Budingen in Hesse. He
had been a simple soldier, possibly because his mother had remarried the
Jewish banker Richard Merton. He had deserted at the end and discarded
his uniform. Prince Ysenburg had been a Pg, and was imprisoned in the
schoolhouse from where he was initially sent out to sweep the streets.
The Americans began to look for a tougher approach and locked him up
in the prison in Butzbach, then in a camp at Schwarzenborn near Kassel.
Sayn-Wittgenstein was also incarcerated in a former Polish camp near
Hirzenhain. There were men and women there. The men were obliged to
camp outside, while the women inhabited the cells. He was allowed to visit
his wife, who was there with him. There was no question of sleep, and the
place was crawling with insects. From there he was transferred to a POW
camp near Giessen. The 2,000 soldiers there were discharged only to work
as slave labour in France, while their numbers grew to around 8,000. Sayn-
Wittgenstein had Prince Hubert of Prussia for companionship, but mainly
remembered the boredom of his prison time. He was set free on the orders
of an American officer who had fallen in love with his sister-in-law and
who was broad-minded enough to arrange for Prince Ysenburg’s release as
well. 54

Dachau was generally used for members of the SS, but not exclusively.
It was also the main depot and transit camp for American prisoners. One
of the oddest inmates was Paul Schmidt, Hitler’s interpreter. He had orig¬
inally been taken to Augsburg, but he was such a valuable witness to events
between 1933 and 1945 that he was constantly being released to appear in
trials. He was taken to Paris for Philippe Petain’s hearings, and was able to

405

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

enjoy the cafes on the Champs Elysees and a meal at Fouquets, before
being returned to a cell in Mannheim. He was naturally a key witness at
the Nuremberg trials, and interpreted for the American psychoanalysts
who were trying to assess the personalities of the war criminals. He was
close enough to the gallows to hear the ‘dull blows’ of the men setting it
up. Schmidt was released in 1948 at a time of a general amnesty for lesser
internees who had served two years. 55

Some tough nuts suspected of major war crimes were kept in the old
penitentiary in the pretty town of Schwabisch Hall near Stuttgart. Here
prisoners were subjected to some particularly nasty forms of interrogation.
Old boys included SS commanders Sepp Dietrich, Fritz Kraemer and
Hermann Priess, all of whom denied issuing orders to shoot prisoners of
war. Seventy-four SS men were finally arraigned for the massacre of
American servicemen at Malmedy, but many of their confessions were sub¬
sequently withdrawn because they said they had been extracted under
torture. 56 One of the last to break was the cigar-chewing SS officer Jochen
Peiper, who was suspected of being chiefly responsible for the massacre.
The Americans had used methods similar to those employed by the SS in
Dachau. One of these was keeping the prisoner for long periods in solitary
confinement. At Oberursel Peiper had been alone for seven weeks while
his guards had subjected him to extremes of heat and cold. At
Zuffenhausen he had been kept in a dark cellar for another five weeks. The
prisoners were subjected to mock trials that resembled sessions of the Klu
Klux Klan. Worse still were the mock executions, where the men were led
off in hoods, while their guards told them they were approaching the gal¬
lows. Prisoners were actually lifted bodily off the ground to convince
them they were about to swing.

More conventional methods of torture included kicks to the groin,
deprivation of sleep and food, and savage beatings. When the Americans
set up a commission of inquiry into the methods used by their investiga¬
tors, they found that, of the 139 cases they examined, 137 had ‘had their
testicles permanently destroyed by kicks received from the American War
Crimes Investigation team’. It was an indication of what happened if you
failed to say what the investigators wanted. 57 The screams of the prisoners
in Schwabisch Hall could be heard throughout the little country town.
The torturers were not all American: they included vengeful Polish guards
like those mentioned by Salomon. The archbishop of Cologne, Cardinal
Joseph Frings, kept a tally of reports of American brutality. 58

The viciousness of the interrogators at Schwabisch Hall was eventually
brought to Clay’s attention. The men charged were Harry Thon, Bruno

406

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

Jacobs, Frank Steiner and Joseph Kirschbaum — all German or German
Jewish names. Most probably they all spoke fluent German — they would
have needed it to be efficient interrogators. The man in charge was
William Perl, a Czech psychologist trained in Vienna. It was Perl who
organised the mock trials. Thon was a German refugee, ‘excitable and
untrained’. 59 Clay pronounced a muted apology that was tantamount to an
admission: ‘Unfortunately, in the heat of the aftermath of war, we did use
measures to obtain evidence that we would not have employed later when
initial heat was expended.’ On the other hand he thought that the accusa¬
tion of ‘unbelievable cruelty’ from Sergeant Bersin, one of the SS men,
gave a distorted picture. He dismissed the appeals of the Malmedy prison¬
ers, finding no evidence of maltreatment. 0

British Camps

In May 1945 the British admitted to having 2.5 million prisoners as well as
half a million wounded and a growing number of refugees from the east.
Captivity was an easygoing thing in those days. An officer in the Welsh
Guards, Andrew Gibson-Watt, recounts scenes of bacchic camaraderie in
the South Tyrol at the end of the war, when guardsmen and German
paratroopers had an all-night party with wine, exchanging cigarettes and
family snapshots. 61 Fleeing from Mecklenburg, Charlotte von der
Schulenburg and her children found themselves in the middle of a huge
POW camp in eastern Holstein. The prisoners were living in barns and
stables and receiving very short commons from their captors. She recalled
the monotonous noise of soldiers crushing grain with stones to make gruel
which was at least some sort of nourishment. The camp was known as the
‘Kraal’. She recalled the extraordinary cultural activity of the place. Among
the thousands of prisoners were actors, musicians, poets and theatre direc¬
tors. Chamber music was performed, plays produced in barns. A poet read
his works to hundreds of captured soldiers, sometimes under a wide-
spreading tree, sometimes standing on the dung heap in the middle of the
courtyard. 62

The prisoners mixed freely with the refugees and helped one another.
They organised their lives together, finding oats and shoes for the horses,
chopping wood for heating and making schnapps on the sly. One night
Charlotte von der Schulenburg recalled their slaughtering a cow. The
animal was cut up and distributed and then all trace of the act was cleared
away, so that when the gendarmes came looking for the culprits the next

407

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

day they found nothing. For Charlotte the worry about feeding her six
children was salutary: it prevented her from being overwhelmed by grief
after the death of her husband. 63

Some soldiers with homes to go to were gradually released. There
remained the East Prussians, Pomeranians and Mecklenburger who had no
way of knowing what had happened to their nearest and dearest. There
were rumours that the senior officers were to be shipped to a camp in
Belgium.* As the countess had learned to read cards, generals would bring
her provisions from their scanty stores in order to learn a little more of their
fate/’ 4 Not all the East Elbians were content to wait for news. One day
Charlotte concealed herself in some straw in the back of a lorry travelling
towards the Schulenburg mansion at Tressow in Mecklenburg. She wanted
to fetch some provisions for the children, and the British were still in con¬
trol of the western sector of the old Grand Duchy, as far as Lake Schwerin.
After a while she realised she was not alone. She heard a rustling in the
straw and turned round to see a man emerge looking like a cattle dealer.
He was a von Wedel — like the Schulenburgs, of ancient Prussian lineage.
He was escaping from the camp because he wanted to locate his family in
the east. 65

The Allies’ attitude hardened, however, partly because they had wit¬
nessed or had been made to witness the barbarities committed by the
Germans, and partly because they saw a use for the men as slave-labourers.
At Bergen-Belsen they fed the SS men on starvation rations and made
them carry the dead without gloves. The idea was to ‘work them to death’.
They achieved this in twenty out of fifty cases, but then a higher author¬
ity intervened. The SS were taken away and ordinary German POWs
were made to do the work. 66 The British disposed of a great many camps
in Britain itself. In 1944 there were already 250,000 German POWs in
Britain and Northern Ireland. There were also camps filled with Russians
who had been fighting alongside the Germans — at Malton in Yorkshire, for
example, where they sought solace in drinking methylated spirits. The
peak figure was achieved in the third quarter of 1946, when there were
391,880 working prisoners in Britain. 67 In 1948, a year before they were
disbanded, there were 600 camps. The regime was not so hard, and in
terms of percentages the number of men who died in British custody is
strikingly low compared to the other Allies: 1,254. 68 Prisoners were taken
first to the ‘cages’ that were set up on racetracks or football grounds to be
interrogated by the PWIS or Prisoner of War Interrogation Section. These

* See below p. 413.

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

had the job of questioning the prisoners in the camp and awarding them
grades A, B or C. A was ‘white’, or free from Nazism; B was grey, or
mildly tainted; C was black, Nazi. Then they were allocated to camps that
might have been just a collection of tents or Nissen huts, or, if they were
lucky, a ramshackle stately home.

Country houses such as Crewe Hall in Cheshire, Grizedale Hall in
Lancashire, Sudeley Casde in Gloucestershire and the Duke of Roxburghe’s
Sunlaws in the Borders were filled with prisoners. Colonel Wedgwood
complained in the House of Commons about the use of this sort of luxury
accommodation and asked facetiously why they had not considered the
Ritz Hotel. Not all German POWs had been treated so well, and
Wormwood Scrubs Prison in London was also used to house them. Jewish
Pioneer Corps soldiers were given the job of guarding them at Bourton-
on-the-Hill, Watton in Caithness, Moreton-in-Marsh, Cattistock, Tiveton,
Cheltenham and Kempton Park.

The leading fliers were housed in a camp outside London. In order to
prepare the cases for the prosecution in the Nuremberg trials, microphones
were concealed to listen to the conversations between Milch, Bodenschatz,
Roller and Galland. The British wanted to know about Goring, and to do
so they planted listening devices like the Reichsmarschall’s Forschungsamt
(Research Office) or Stalins NKVD. That way the British learned that
Goring’s generals did not hold their master in high regard. He was
‘ungrateful’ and he painted his fingernails mauve. Galland, however, cor¬
rected his comrades: it was transparent varnish, not paint. An American
Major Emery was sent in as an agent provocateur on 5 June 1945 and told the
generals that Goring had been blackening their names in his prison in
Luxembourg. The men fell for it, and began retailing stories about how
corrupt Goring had been. 69

In Scotland Camp 21 at Comrie was used to house 4,000 hard-bitten
Nazis - U-boat crews and Waffen-SS men who gruesomely lynched
Sergeant Wolfgang Rosterg. He had expressed doubt at Germany’s final
victory and threatened to uncover a plot to rise up against the guards. He
was hung up in the latrines. They also chased and beat Gerhard Rettig to
death. Five of the murderers were hanged in Pentonville Prison in London
on 6 October 1946, and another two were executed the following month.
It took a tough former Prussian officer, and holder of the Iron Cross,
Herbert Sulzbach to show them the error of their ways. He had written a
respected book on trench warfare, but when the Nazis came to power they
put him in a concentration camp as a Jew. Once more England’s gain was
Germany’s loss. After leaving Comrie, Sulzbach went to Haltwhistle. This

409

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

was a progressive camp with its own newspaper, orchestra, theatre and uni¬
versity which laid on exhibitions of prisoners’ art. Sulzbach struck up
friendly relations with many prisoners that continued after their release. He
was considered the apostle of democratic ideas and a political confessor. 70
The youth camp at Cambridge possessed a similar figure in the pioneer
Captain Starbroke who looked like a ‘caricature from [the antisemitic
paper] Der Stunner , but was so respected by the prisoners that he was
treated as if he had been made of porcelain. 71

The former army commander in chief Walther von Brauchitsch was
housed in No. u (Special) POW Camp, Island Farm, Bridgend — the so-
called German Generals’ Camp in South Wales. In his various court
appearances he had been economical with the truth and denied having
received a cash payment from Hitler at the time of his divorce and remar¬
riage to a Nazi woman. He also claimed to have had no knowledge of the
planning of aggressive war and to have been ignorant of the murderous
‘Commissar Order’ that required the shooting of Soviet political officers.
From Bridgend he was transferred to the grim Miinsterlager to attend
trial before a British court, but died before his case came up. 72 At one time
there were no fewer than 186 German generals or equivalent in the camp.
One of them was Lieutenant-General Hans von Ravenstein, who had
been taken prisoner at Tobruk. In the spring of 1946 he was transferred to
Bridgend from a prison camp in Canada. He was to spend over two years
in the camp before he was set free. No one had anything bad to say about
him. He disliked Bridgend: the holder of the Pour le Merite from the
Great War looked down on a number of Hitler appointees who were not
as well mannered as he might have hoped. 73

The generals at Bridgend were housed in bed-sitting rooms big enough
to accommodate a six-foot bed. Only field marshals were allowed separate
sitting rooms. Ravenstein was befriended by a family of Plymouth Brethren
who took him out for picnics, but he was not allowed to carry money.
Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt was one of those at Bridgend with a set
of rooms. Ravenstein admired him, but he was wont to hide behind super¬
ior orders when called upon to justify his errors and omissions. 74 The tank
general Hans-Jiirgen von Arnim had also been in British captivity since
May 1943. At the time he was the second most important prisoner in
England after Rudolf Hess. He was kept at a ‘beautiful’ mansion in
Hampshire and allowed certain privileges concomitant with his seniority.
He was not released until 1947. By then his estates had been mopped up by
land reform in the Soviet east. He died in genteel penury in 1962. 75

Some of the German POWs in Britain had been transferred from camps

410

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

in the United States, and were officially ‘on loan’. These were called
Amerikafahrer (American travellers). There were 123,000 of them in all. 76
They made up work details, and one of their first jobs was to build a camp
for the victory parade on VE Day. 77 One Amerikafahrer was Kurt Glaser,
whose transport arrived in Liverpool in July 1946. He went first to
Wollaton Park near Nottingham, where he lived in a hut with fifty other
men in the shadow of the ‘Schloss’. An officer came to see him and
asked him six questions about National Socialism, similar to those asked
in Texas which had branded him a Nazi. He worked for a farmer in
Nottinghamshire, and harvested turnips and potatoes. He was later trans¬
ferred to Revesby in Lincolnshire where once again he worked on the
land. A British intelligence officer informed him that he was working to
feed his fellow Germans, as there was not enough food in the zone to
nourish them. In September he heard James Byrnes’s Stuttgart speech.
When he learned that America had released all its POWs, Glaser could not
believe his ears. There were still 355,000 German prisoners in Britain. In
the main they were treated with much kindness, however, and when Glaser
went for a walk in the manicured grounds of Nottingham Castle an old
man came up to him and gave him a florin. Shortly after that, like all the
Amerikafahrer, he was sent back to Dachau in Germany to be released. 78

The literary prisoner who had found himself hungry on the 2,000 cal¬
ories he had received in America began to understand the real meaning of
the word when he arrived in Sudbury Camp near Derby. As usual he was
shunted through a number of different camps — Pendleford Hall,
Wolverhampton; Halfpenny Green, Staffordshire — presumably according
to the demands of local agriculture. Meanwhile his stomach rumbled. 79
Intellectual nourishment was provided by a Dr R, a ‘naturalised emigrant’
who talked to the prisoners about the Nuremberg trials. On 1 October
they learned of the executions after the International Military Tribunal
(IMT) verdicts. 80 Meanwhile they were being graded for their levels of
political reliability. The uncertainty about their future had consequences:
219 of them committed suicide. 81

The prisoners began to receive a little money for their work — two
shillings a day. The British people were strikingly generous towards their
former enemies. A woman gave the man two oranges and an apple,
although fruit cannot have been that easy to obtain. Soon the prisoners
were allowed to walk out of their camps if they remained within five
miles. The prisoner admired English Gothic architecture and enjoyed vis¬
iting the village churches. Pubs were out of bounds, but he chanced it.
‘From all sides’ he was ‘cheerfully and amicably greeted’. He came out

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

richer than when he went in. The men had bought him drinks and there
had been a whip-round. He had been given five shillings. 82

The prisoner was back in Germany in the cruel winter of 1947. He saw
some prisoners who had been released from the Soviet Union dressed in
rags: ‘We are ashamed that we have warm winter clothes.’ The treatment of
German prisoners of war was still nagging Frings, who used a trip to
Rome in February 1946 to pick up his cardinal’s hat as a pretext to rally
German soldiers incarcerated in Italy, together with Cardinals Innitzer of
Vienna and Faulhaber of Munich. He visited Britain in September that
year and went to no fewer than twelve camps containing a total of 20,000
men. Later he addressed a congregation of 3,000 British Catholics in
Westminster Cathedral calling for the men’s release. In 1947 he performed
a similar mission to Canada to try to secure the liberation of Germans in
Canadian camps. 83

The big fry might visit London from time to time to be interrogated
in the London District Prisoner of War Cage of the Combined Services
Detailed Interrogation Centre (or CSDIC) in the plush surroundings
of Kensington Palace Gardens.* It was here that Lieutenant-Colonel
Alexander Paterson Scotland led a team of German-speaking officers and
NCOs whose job was to compile the dossiers to be handed over to the war
crimes tribunals. Their principal concern was the crimes committed against
British nationals and above all POWs. The Great Escape loomed large,
specifically the killing of fifty of the airmen who had escaped from the
Stalag Luft III in Sagan in Silesia. Thirteen Gestapo men were eventually
brought to justice and hanged in Hamelin Gaol in 1948. The case was not
actually closed until 1964. 84

The investigators based in Kensington Palace Gardens were also exer¬
cised by the several atrocious massacres that had been carried out by SS
units in France. One was the killing of ninety-seven soldiers from the 2nd
Battalion of the Royal Norfolk Regiment at the strikingly inappropriately
named village of Le Paradis on 27 May 1940. Responsibility for the crime
was pinned on a company commander in the SS-Totenkopf Division,
Fritz Knoechlein, who had learned to hate all non-Nazi forms of human¬
ity in the hard school of Dachau: to be a guard at Dachau or any of the
other camps required proof of a man’s contempt for his fellows. Knoechlein
had absorbed his lessons well. He was hanged. 85

Germans complained of their treatment at the hands of Scotland and his

* MI 5 had another interrogation centre at Latchmere House in the London suburbs —
Camp 020. This was commanded by Colonel Robin Stephens until his transfer to Bad
Nenndorf.

412

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

team, but the work-over seems to have been gentle compared to those car¬
ried out by the Americans. The SS officer Otto Baum said he had been
slapped and threatened with extradition to the Soviet Union. Scotland vig¬
orously denied the charges, which could have been brought before the
courts in an attempt to prove that a confession had been extracted by
force. The prisoners naturally had a number of ruses up their sleeves,
accusations of torture being just one of them. Another was to blame every¬
thing on a man who was dead, or in Soviet captivity — where there was no
chance of corroborating the story, and a fair chance that he would even¬
tually perish anyhow if he hadn’t done so already. That Scotland beat and
abused prisoners, however, seems beyond doubt. He even admitted as
much in his autobiography, although the relevant passages were cut at the
request of MI5. 86

Scotland’s men were investigating a full-scale massacre of British soldiers
that took place at the time of the evacuation of the British Expeditionary
Force at Dunkirk. The command to kill a hundred or so men mostly from
the Royal Warwicks was probably issued by the later SS-Brigadeftihrer
Wilhelm Mohnke, after his men had taken a pasting from the British
during the rearguard action. In connection with the inquiry the Scotland
team were able to bring in Sepp Dietrich, the commander of the
Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler, who was in American custody. Scotland was
surprised to find that the former coachman who had become Hitler’s dar¬
ling was a broken man. He was squat and balding, ‘rough in manners and
crude in speech’. 87 Scotland had evidently believed what he had heard
about the SS superman. He failed to get a confession from Dietrich, or
from any other SS man, and concluded that they took their oath of loyalty
very seriously.

The British also had their prisons in Germany and Belgium. The
Belgian camp was meant to be particularly gruelling, and conditions for the
130,000 prisoners were reported to be “not much better than Belsen’. 88
Those awaiting trial for war crimes were housed in the former Prussian
town of Minden or in Miinsterlager. Conditions here were scandalously
bad. When the camp was inspected in April 1947 there were found to be
just four functioning lightbulbs in the whole place. There was no fuel, no
straw mattresses and no food apart from ‘water soup’. The camp was
chiefly guarded by ex-Nazi POWs. The inmates saw no British officers,
and even the sighting of an NCO was a rarity. Hygiene was equally night¬
marish: there were two washhouses for every 500 men, no soap and no
towels. 89

British civil servants showed scant concern for the idea that Germans

4i3

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

were dying in British camps. Con O’Neill at the Foreign Office minuted
a paper written by Hynd in July 1946 to say that a few more deaths might
be a good thing, as no one needed more Germans. A suggestion was
mooted that the prisoners should be made over to the Russians, as they
would know how to deal with them. The Russians would have no foolish
sentimentality and would kill them off. 90

The British also ran their Civilian Internment Camps or CICs for polit¬
ical prisoners, who had not all been screened or charged, and which
contained prisoners as young as sixteen. When questions were asked about
the camps in the House of Commons Wing Commander Norman
Hulbert called them ‘concentration camps’, the ‘only right and proper
description’. This was where the British haphazard denazification took
place. Anyone could have ended up there: Junkertum, being a member of
the east Elbian or Prussian nobility, called for ‘discretionary arrest’. Anyone
with ‘von’ before their names had to watch out. The British decided that
it might be better to place the civil prisoners offshore; perhaps that way
fewer people would see them. The proposal was to create an ‘Alcatraz’ for
up to 10,000 prisoners, but this never happened as the RAF was using the
available islands for bombing practice. When the new camp Adelheide was
opened there were only 473 prisoners, but thirteen of them were over sixty
and another 136 over fifty. 91

Once convicted of war crimes the Germans might have ended up at
Werl near Dortmund. Death row was in the Pied Piper town of Hamelin.
Execution exerted severe demands on the British hangman, Albert
Pierrepoint, who could not be in all places at once. It took him seven
hours to hang six prisoners in pairs. At one point the British were hand¬
ing out between thirty and fifty death sentences a month, although a third
of them were quashed on appeal. 92 There was a suggestion that the British
might turn to the guillotine, as it was quicker. Soldiers had made it clear
that they did not like carrying out firing squads. 93 At Bad Nenndorf near
Hanover, CSDIC 74 also possessed an interrogation centre where men
were tortured. The centre of the town was sealed off with barbed wire.
The torture-chamber was the old pumproom. Here they were beaten,
deprived of sleep, threatened with execution or unnecessary surgery. As
many as 372 men and 44 women passed through Bad Nenndorf before it
closed in July 1947.

Initially they were SS men and Pgs, as well as industrialists and ‘pluto¬
crats’ who had done well in the Third Reich. The British were also
frightened of Werewolves, and brought in several Hitler Youth leaders for
interrogation. Later many of them were Germans who had been ‘turned’

414

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

by the Soviets, and were spying on the British Zone. The camp com¬
mander was Colonel Robin Stephens, an MI5 officer. His staff consisted of
twelve British — including civilian linguists — a Pole, a Dutchman and six
German Jews. They were helped by young soldiers. Some of these had
been present at the liberation of Belsen and felt no goodwill towards the
Germans. Others had committed minor offences of discipline, assault or
desertion and were being punished.

The activities in Bad Nenndorf eventually reached the ears of the prime
minister, and Sir Sholto Douglas launched an investigation into the abuse
of POWs. A court martial opened in Hamburg on 8 June 1948 at which
Stephens was tried together with a German-born Jew, Lieutenant Richard
Langham. It was transferred to London and heard in camera. The officers
were acquitted. There was alarm in government circles that the public
should learn that the British were running a number of branches of CSDIC
in Germany, and that ‘Bad Nenndorf’ should become a rallying cry. Lord
Pakenham expressed his concern about the accusation that the British
were treating prisoners in a manner ‘reminiscent of the German concen¬
tration camps’. Following the court martial Bad Nenndorf was closed
down, but interrogations went on in the British base in Glitersloh. When
Pakenham heard of this he complained to Robertson. The military com¬
mander apparently took no notice. 94

Almost all the men who were not suspected of any great crimes, how¬
ever, were sent home for Christmas 1948 — that is, if they still had a home
to go to, or knew how to locate their families.

The Treatment of the Cossacks and Russian Civilians in Germany

Marshal Zhukov raised the question of the return of Russian POWs as
early as 5 June 1945 when the Allied commanders met in Berlin. It had
been agreed that these soldiers would be handed over to the Russians.
Most of the men were Cossacks and Ukrainians who had fought in
German units, chiefly SS. Some of them were also labour conscripts and
white Russians who had been caught up in the war zone. 95 They did not
have to be Russian, as the Russians acted for their clients too. The char¬
acter of Anna Schmidt in The Third Man is one of these. She is from
Czechoslovakia. Her lover Harry Lime has had papers made for her. The
Soviet authorities allow Lime to carry on hiding in their sector as long as
he continues to inform them of cases like hers.

In the film Major Calloway is reluctant to hand Anna over to Brodsky,

4i5

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

considering her an insignificant case. In Austria the British co-operated
with the NKVD over Russians who had fought in SS units, although they
had no doubts that they were leading the prisoners to certain death.* The
Anglo-Americans had 150,000 Russian prisoners. Over of a fifth of these
were returned to the Soviets and presumably slaughtered. The Russians
were furious not to receive the full tally. One of the most tragic incidents
was the handing over of part of Vlasov s Russian Legion to the Soviets
across the border on 24 February 1946. The Russians were housed at
Plattling. Guessing their fate, they mutinied one night and the men at
nearby ‘Natternberg’ could hear the sound of shooting. They were
rounded up and taken to the Czech border. After the Russians were liqui¬
dated, Salomon and the other men from Natternberg were transferred to
Plattling, along with the Hersbruck camp and the Nuremberg witness
camp and the SS men who had been held in Dachau. 96

Salomon later learned the whole story. One day a Soviet official had
arrived at Plattling and demanded the files on the prisoners. When the
Russian POWs got wind of what was going to happen, they mutinied. A
senior American officer had placated them by telling them that they would
not be handed over, and that they would be resettled”! in southern Europe —
the same lie the Welsh Guards used in Carinthia. Then the tanks rolled in.
The American guards had been issued with rubber truncheons and went to
the Russian huts in the middle of the night, beating them out of their
bunks — ‘Mak snell, mak snell’ — and into waiting lorries. They were taken
to Zwiesel near the border. American guards reported that corpses could
be seen hanging from trees behind the Russian lines. The precise number
of Russian soldiers killed is not known. Estimates range from 300 to
3,ooo. 97

The French Camps

A total of 1,065,000 German POWs were attributed to the French. Of
these about a quarter — 237,000 — had been captured in France. The rest
were an American ‘loan’. Their treatment was particularly brutal, 9S prob¬
ably because the memory of internment in Germany was still fresh in the
minds of many French civilians, who had not recovered from the humili¬
ation of occupation either. At the beginning of November 1944, there had

* See above pp. 305-7.

f The verb to ‘resettle' had a particularly lethal significance when the Nazis applied it to the
Jews.

416

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

been 920,000 poilus in German POW camps." Here was the chance for
revenge. Very soon after the end of the war the Red Cross reported that
there were 200,000 prisoners on the brink of famine in France. The United
States treated this report with some scepticism, but it stopped the transports
and brought 130,000 of the worst cases back to the US in 1946 because
they were in such poor condition that they could no longer work. The
Americans compensated the French with another 100,000 Amerikafahrer but
were careful to deliver food so that the same thing did not happen again.
The French received the prisoners only once they had agreed to abide by
the Geneva Convention. The good behaviour did not last long. 100 When
the Americans put pressure on the French to release their prisoners, the
latter complained that neither the Americans nor the British had lost as
many labourers in the war and that the German slaves were ‘indispensable
for the rebuilding of their country’. France hung on to the men until the
end of 1948, when the last 23,609 went home. An attempt to make the
work voluntary was unsuccessful. 101 Neglect and brutality took their toll:
officially 21,886 German POWs died in France, or 24,178 men from the
Axis powers. 102

Salomon cites one case of an elderly Alsatian German historian who
starved to death in a French ‘dungeon’. 103 In another camp in the Sarthe,
prisoners had to survive on 900 calories a day. In the prison hospital an
average of twelve POWs died daily. Camp 404 at Septemes near Marseilles
was originally set up by the Americans and was partly run by vicious
‘Jabos’ or Yugoslav guards. It was a gigantic place with twenty-five separate
‘cages’ filled with tents. Solid structures came later. In February 1946,
however, Septemes was handed over to the French as part of the Western
Allied loan policy. The Germans felt they had been betrayed. There were
‘indescribable scenes’ of panic and several suicides and self-inflicted injuries.
More, there was the nightmare* — as far as the Germans were concerned —
of finding that their new captors were colonial troops. 104

The march of German captives through France provided the French
public with the chance to tell the Landser (privates and NCOs) what they
thought of them. One woman who disregarded an order to stop pelting the
prisoners with stones was shot by a black American soldier. ‘She lay there
in the street. No one took any notice of her . . . I05 Another prisoner who
was taken to a camp near Annecy to work in the quarries was told that the
French were receiving one mark for every prisoner they took off the

* This went back to the First World War. There was generally a certain empathy between
Germans and black American troops. See above pp. 241—2.

417

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Americans. As they were marched through France a French soldier showed
off to little girls at the roadside by kicking him in the backside. Watch¬
stealing was almost as common in the west as it was with the Red Army. 106
One German describes a sergeant-major who showed him his watch, only
to lose it soon afterwards. The prisoner was not so badly treated for all that.
After the quarries he was able to work on the land and the local farmers fed
him well — all but one, that is, who cooked ‘roast cat’ in a cream sauce that
Christmas. He ate some of the sauce, but spurned the cat. 107

On 22 July 1946 Hans Johnert learned that America no longer possessed
prisoners of war. They had all been put out on loan. Soon after his ‘repat¬
riation’ he was moved to Pont d’Ain, near Bourg-en-Bresse. The Germans
were used to provide labour for the local community. They worked on the
farms and in the quarries. They served different masters, some of whom
were kind, some not. On 9 December Frenchmen dressed as Germans
threw grenades at the POWs, killing two of them and injuring many more.
Johnert was sent home in the spring of 1947. 108 Another, anonymous pris¬
oner also found himself handed over to the French by the Americans. He
was originally taken to a tent camp outside the Breton city of Rennes
where the prisoners slept on the wet earth. The Americans were particu¬
larly trigger-happy and one man was killed simply for running to pick up
a cigarette butt thrown down by a guard. Any prisoner found guilty of theft
was buried up to his neck in a hole in the ground. Those who tried to run
were confined for thirty days. ‘Vae victis,’ concludes the prisoner - ‘woe to
the vanquished’. 109

On 24 June 1945 the prisoner in Rennes learned that the French were
due to take over the camp. Despite the rough way they had been handled
by the Americans it was not a pleasant thought — ‘the modern slave-trade’
he called it. If anything, the French were even quicker on the draw than
the Americans. Soon after they took control of the camp they shot three
Germans, two in the head: ‘Buy combs, you lot, there are lousy times
ahead!’ Shooting continued to be a frequent occurrence at night. Poor pro¬
vision meant that people died of hunger too. Two men starved to death in
the huts, but the prisoner added that about twenty died daily in the camp
sickbay. ‘Die. Who would ever learn about it — who would believe it? The
dead tell no tales.’ This death rate would tally with the known figures for
France in 1945. 110

One evening a drunken guard fired into a group of prisoners. He missed
the Germans but hit a black American guard outside the perimeter, killing
him outright. Red wine was responsible for the guards hurling salvoes of
stones at the prisoners to shouts of‘Vive la France!’, ‘Vive de Gaulle!’ and

418

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

‘bodies!’ At least one of the guards was from Alsace. The Germans inflicted
revenge on him by using the insulting word Wackes behind his back.* On
8 August another eight men died of hunger in the sickbay. On the other
hand most of the starving men were in the huts, not in the sickbay. When
the Red Cross parcels arrived that August the men were as happy as chil¬
dren. The arrival of food, however, failed to prevent ten more men dying
on the 22nd. One of the prisoners friends cut his wrists when the guard
discovered the tell-tale blood-group tattoo in his armpit. Meanwhile, the
scandal of the camps had reached the French press: reporters were com¬
paring them to Buchenwald. In the Figaro a writer acknowledged that the
Germans had committed terrible crimes but ‘these horrors should not
become the theme of a sports competition in which we endeavour to
outdo the Nazis . . . We have to judge the enemy, but we have a duty not
to resemble him.’ 111

The prisoner volunteered for a work detail that took him off to defuse
mines around the Breton coast - in blatant violation of the Geneva
Convention — but he was happy to do anything to escape from the misery
of the camp, and possibly get something better to eat. As he was signed up
there was a new spate of robbery, this time by both guards and civilians.
The men were beaten and kicked and they lost their watches, rings, shoes,
even their trousers. 112

Belgium

Britain and America donated over 60,000 of their POWs to the Belgians.
One German soldier who ended up in a camp near Mons in the south of
the country had been captured in the South Tyrol. At the airport he was
robbed by an American soldier. Travelling through Germany he was able
to toss out a letter on Giinzburg Station. A nod from the station master told
him that he would deal with it. In Mannheim they came across some sol¬
diers who had been shipped up from Lake Constance. ‘They reported that
the Franzmann [army slang for a Frenchman] was taking everything away.’ 113

The Americans left them in Erbisoeuil camp with 30,000 others. Before
they quit their charges, the GIs robbed them of their wristwatches. What
they failed to take, the Belgians grabbed, adding that they would have it
back on their release: ‘These people were the worst we had met up to now.’

* The word Wackes, meaning an imbecile, was responsible for the so-called Zabern Incident
in 1913, when the German army’s treatment of the Alsatian locals led to mass demonstra¬
tions, and there was a vote of no-confidence in the German chancellor in the Reichstag.

419

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

The prisoners were registered. When they produced their pay-books, the
Belgians were astonished to learn that they were not SS men, but that did
not prevent them from stealing the prisoners pen, money and clothes.
Once the Germans were admitted to the camp it became clear that the
guards wanted to see them as the perpetrators of brutal acts in concentra¬
tion camps: ‘You did this too in concentration camps . . .’ they said. When
the men tried to leave their huts to urinate or defecate, the guards shouted
at them, ‘You German pigs, do it inside, that’s how it was in the KZ!’
When one of them chanced it, he was shot at. They got round the prob¬
lem by urinating through the window. 114 The prisoner could not
understand why they had been sent to the camp: ‘The Belgian people don’t
want us at all, and they are frightened of unemployment and are threaten¬
ing to go on strike.’ 115

The prisoner was put to work in the mines. The work was only for the
Landser— the officers were exempted. The Belgian prime minister, Achille
van Acher, had given him some hope by affirming that the men would be
sent home in the spring of 1947. It was not just the work which was gru¬
elling, it was the occasional letters from home which painted a disturbing
picture of the life of their dear ones. They heard about the rapes in the
Russian Zone, the theft of all their belongings and the penury of their
families, and the desperation to get home meant there were frequent
attempts to escape. There were, however, advantages to living in the
British or Soviet Zones. It is not hard to see that the experience with the
Americans had made the prisoner bitter: ‘In the English [sir] or Russian
Zones the women receive a little support at least, but with the Yanks and
their complete democracy, everyone has to get on with their life as best
they can.’ 116

The official statistics for deaths in custody in the Benelux lands are 450
in Belgium, 210 in Holland and 15 in Luxembourg. 117

The Russian Camps.

The Russians seemingly made no distinction between a POW and a civil¬
ian, and both were liable to arrest and to be shipped to the Soviet Union
to work, or to rot in camps. On 29 June 1945 the Soviet Union was said
to have between four and five million Germans within its borders, helping
rebuild its cities. 118 The imprisonment of German and other Axis POWs in
Russia was marked by an element of callous chaos. Huge numbers of
Germans went east — not just soldiers, but non-military men aged between

420

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

sixteen and sixty, including scientists and technicians. Records attesting to
their identity were inadequate, and whether they lived or died was clearly
a matter of supreme indifference to the Soviet authorities. As it happened,
1,094,250 soldiers perished, half of them before April 1945. 119 Sometimes
it was the vast majority: of the 90,000 soldiers taken prisoner at Stalingrad,
only 5,000 returned home. By 1950 numbers had considerably decreased.
At the beginning of that year there were still 46,841 POWs in Russia; by
its end the number had sunk to 28,711. 120 It was roughly the same figure
as those who had been put on trial for war crimes. They had all received
twenty-five years.

On 31 May 1945, Margret Boveri made a list of her journalist colleagues
whom she knew to have been arrested by the Russians: Molkenthin, who
was not a Party member but had joined the SS to protect his back, and was
a harmless reporter; Scharp, who had been forced to join the Party in
Prague in 1939; Sprang, a real Nazi; Wirths, a known anti-Nazi, but the
Russians refused to believe him because he was assistant editor of Das
Reich; John Brech, economics editor of the same paper, an anti-Nazi, but
who had been forced to join the Party in 1938; a lot of people from the
DNB (Deutsche Nachrichten Btiro, the official press agency), including
anti-Nazis; Seibert from the Volkische Beobachter. All the others fled in
good time. The ones who were really important had naturally vanished
without trace, but the Russians were too foolish to know that. The treat¬
ment of the smaller fry was not too bad. The food was decent, and the
interrogations polite; only the living conditions were bad. The bankers she
knew came out after two or three weeks. Three girls from the Foreign
Office were locked up for three days, during which they were beaten and
had their hair pulled. They could not tell the Russians where the bigwigs
were. Then they were dismissed. Even men and women who had been
involved in the July Plot were arrested and interrogated in this way.

Things got worse when the prisoners were marched off into captivity.
Some managed to escape. The Russians reacted by arresting the same
number in the next village so that they delivered the correct number of
internees as listed on the paperwork. Their flats and furniture were requi¬
sitioned. Unimportant prisoners taken in Poland might eventually turn up
in the Russian Zone. Libussa von Krockow’s stepfather Jesko von
Puttkamer, who had done no more than lead the local Volksturm in the
Second World War, had last been heard of in prison in Danzig. In the
spring of 1947 his family received a message that he was in a POW camp
in Leipzig. Libussa knew the way over the green border and made her way
to Leipzig. She found the camp in a suburb of the city, and spoke to a

421

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

prisoner through the barbed wire. She went back later that evening with a
crowbar. By dawn he was free. 121

The Soviet authorities were as wont to arrest monarchists as Nazis.
Hermine of Reuss, the Kaiser’s second wife, might have been described as
both. She had flirted with the Nazis before the Second World War and
damaged the reputation of her husband’s family in the process. After the
Kaiser’s death in 1941 she had withdrawn to her Schloss Saabor in
Thuringia. At the end of the war she had sought refuge near by with her
sister, Princess Ida zu Stolberg-Rossla. The Duke of Brunswick, who was
married to the Kaiser’s daughter, Victoria Louise, went to Thuringia to
warn her about the Russians. She replied that Thuringia was under
American occupation and that she had no reason to move. She remained
obstinate when the duke told her, ‘Just think who you are; you must not
fall into Russian hands.’ She replied, ‘I have no reason to reproach myself.
I shall stay here.’ She was not warned of the American withdrawal in July,
and soon the Russians arrived to take her into custody. After a long period
in which there was no news, she re-emerged in Frankfurt-an-der-Oder,
where she remained under house arrest in a building on the edge of the
town. She died in August 1947 of a heart attack brought on by ‘uncertainty
and profound mental suffering’. 122

The Russians were keen to get their hands on all the leading army
commanders who had operated in their territory, whether they had been
party to the atrocities or not. One who is credited with having been a
humane general was Field Marshal Ewald von Kleist. He had been dis¬
missed from his command by Hitler at the same time as Erich von
Manstein. They were clever officers, but not National Socialists. 123 Kleist
retired to his Silesian estate, moving to Bavaria at the approach of the Red
Army. There he was arrested by the Americans, who handed him over to
the Yugoslavs in 1946 — Kleist had performed an important role in the inva¬
sion of Yugoslavia in 1941. The former army commander was incarcerated
in no fewer than twenty seven prisons in nine years. The Yugoslavs tried
him and sentenced him to fifteen years as a war criminal. After two years
he was extradited to Russia, where he was charged - with heavy irony -
with having ‘alienated through mildness and kindness the population of the
Soviet Union’. In March 1954 he reached the end of his Calvary at
Vladimir camp, where he was finally allowed to make contact with his
family. He died in October that year of‘general arteriosclerosis and hyper¬
tension’. 124

Field Marshal Friedrich Paulus, defeated at Stalingrad, had the doubtful
honour of being among the 5,000 or so of his troops to return to Germany,

422

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

but that did not occur until November 1954, when he had already served
eleven years. His treatment was not bad. He was kept under house arrest in
Moscow, and once he began to co-operate with the Soviet authorities after
20 July 1944 he was accorded some privileges. He gave evidence for the
prosecution at Nuremberg, but even on his release he was not allowed to
join his family in the West and died of motor-neuron disease in Dresden in
1957 -

If life was tough for German POWs in Russian camps, one or two of
them could claim that the Soviet authorities preserved their lives. SS-
Brigadefuhrer Wilhelm Mohnke, who led the defence of the government
quarter in Berlin in April 1945 and was taken prisoner on 2 May, was
wanted by the Western Allies for ordering the execution of unarmed
POWs. Had he fallen into British or American hands he would almost cer¬
tainly have been hanged. As it was he was released from Soviet custody in
1:955, when the Anglo-Americans were no longer interested in pursuing
German war criminals, and died in his bed forty-six years later. 125

Mohnke s ten years in captivity were a curate’s egg. They began with a
remarkable meal in the Belle Alliance Strasse of Berlin. After they surren¬
dered, he and twelve other SS officers were taken to a four-storey building
and invited to a proper Russian feast complete with caviar and vodka. The
Germans failed to tuck in with a gusto equal to the Russians. At 10.30 p.m.
the dinner came to an end and the Germans were locked up. The next day
Mohnke and Rattenhuber of the SD, Hitler’s pilot Baur and his chief
bodyguard Giinsche were taken to a transit camp for high-ranking German
officers in Strausberg. On 9 May they were moved again — this time to
Russia. 126

The Soviet authorities refused to extradite Mohnke or to give any
information on his whereabouts. With time any pretence at co-operation
in these matters broke down. One of the reasons the British tried
Manstein, it is said, is because they did not wish to hand him over to the
Soviets. Mohnke was taken to the Budirka Prison and finally to the
Lubyanka, where he walked the gangways with Admiral Erich Raeder
and Field Marshal Ferdinand Schorner. In the meantime he was beaten and
tortured by Soviet secret agents. Interrogations by the NKVD were no
gentler than those carried out by the Americans. Baur, for example, was
deprived of sleep for twenty-one nights in succession.

These were important Nazis, but there were plenty of men in Russian
camps who had no particular affiliation to the regime. Heinz Pust was a
typical German POW in Soviet captivity. He was taken prisoner in
Czechoslovakia, as a soldier in Schorner s vast army. On 9 May 1945 he had

423

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

heard the Soviet soldiers shooting into the air. It was the first he was even
aware that the Germans were losing the war, let alone surrendering. He
was given papers that released him home, but he was caught hiding in the
woods by partisans and locked up in a school house. He was decently
treated after a local policeman decided to give the partisans a lecture on the
laws of war. On 16 May he was handed over to the Red Army.

He was taken to Georgievsk in Russia with a number of Hungarian sol¬
diers. Discipline tended to be relaxed in the camp. Sometimes you could
come and go as you pleased. The food was poor and the men were always
hungry. Two or three times a day there was kasha: gruel. They had seven¬
teen grams of sugar and five grams of tobacco which they made up into
cigarettes with old newspapers. To supplement this there was a daily ration
of 300—600 grams of soggy bread and seventeen grams of fat or meat.
Sometimes there was a soup made from rotten vegetables. The prisoners
would strew the sugar on the bread to give themselves the illusion of
eating cake. Pusts first packet from home came in 1950 or 1951. 127

Molotov stated at the Moscow Conference in March 1947 that there
were 890,532 German prisoners in Russian captivity. It was a moment of
terrible disappointment: only a third of Germany’s missing men were
alive. 1213 The news broke through to Pust that all POWs would be released
by the end of 1948, ‘but the year 1948 came and went without anyone in
our camp noticing any acceleration’. 129 Clay can’t have believed the
Russians, but he could see a stick to beat the enemy with when he called
for a tough stance: ‘tell the truth about Moscow' — they have two million
POWs. As he told Senator Kenneth Keating, ‘Don’t let’s be the first to get
nervous in this war of nerves.’ 130

There were no Russian trials until 1949. Most of the important prison¬
ers received the same tariff of twenty-five years’ hard labour. On 6
December 1949 Pust was indicted for war crimes. In Moscow he was
placed in ‘investigative custody’. The men were tried in batches. It took all
of fifteen to twenty minutes. They each received twenty-five years, even —
it seemed — a Berlin bus driver whose main crime was to have been found
wearing his uniform. Now Pust’s imprisonment took on an official status
for the first time. At Rostov on the Don his head was shaved, and his pic¬
ture taken along with his fingerprints. 131

The generals and staff officers were exempted from work, but that did
not always mean that their lives were any more pleasant and many volun¬
teered simply in order to have something to do. They were sent to the
generals’ camp at Voikova, which contained 186 senior German com¬
manders, where they peeled potatoes, tended the garden, fed rabbits and

424

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

brought in the harvest. Although officers could lead a lazy life, there was
little chance of getting out. The higher the rank the less the possibility of
reprieve: in 1947 officers represented 7 per cent of prisoners held; by 1949
the percentage had risen to 36. 132 There was no hope of reprieve before
Stalin’s death in 1953. After Chancellor Adenauer’s visit in 1955 three
Russian generals appeared in the camp to break the news that the men
were free. Mohnke and his comrades then had a second feast from their
Soviet captors.

Pust was one of the 27,000 POWs who learned that he would not be
released until 1974, but despite that cruel verdict prisoners began to be
freed in more regular batches. The first to leave were the Hungarians and
the Romanians, probably because their countries had now become Soviet
satellites. Books became vital. A comrade in arms had given Pust a copy of
Faust Part One, much of which he now knew by heart. Some books pub¬
lished by the Aufbau Verlag* appeared in the camp: German translations of
Gorki and Tolstoy as well as suitable German literature: Plivier, Heinrich
Mann and Arnold Zweig. The regime lasted as long as Stalin, then Pust
went home.

Otto Engelbert had a different experience to Pust. He volunteered to
attend the ‘Antifa’ school in Talizy - freedom at the price of ideological
indoctrination. He went in November 1945. Talizy had been built as a
penal colony during the First World War. The area was rich in peat, which
was used to fuel the local power stations. The prisoners were assessed on
their arrival, by being questioned on their positions regarding East Prussia
and Silesia and what they thought about the Oder—Neisse Line. Then
they went on to the next stage: history according to the Marxist dialectic.
They were given courses on the reasons for Hitler’s defeat; the sources of
the USSR’s victorious power; the main stages of Germany’s development
to industrial capitalism (1500—1815); the foundations of capitalism; the
Revolution of 1848; the creation of Prussia-Germany; reactionary Prussia
and Prussian militarism; imperialism; the growth of the workers’ move¬
ment; the November Revolution etc, etc. 133 When Engelbert finished his
course he swore an oath to fight Hitlerism. The reward was a proper feast.
A pig was slain; there was hot food, cake and tea, wine and schnapps. The
intellectuals, however, were not released. Engelbert was sent back to
Germany to spread the word. 134

* See above p. 224.

425

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Prisons in Czechoslovakia, Poland and Yugoslavia

Poland was well and truly a Soviet client and retained tens of thousands of
German soldiers. In the summer of 1948 Clay was concerned about this: ‘I
always pushed for the return of German prisoners of war.’ His reports told
him there were still 40,000 of them, more than three years after the cessation
of hostilities. A paltry twenty-one had reached the American Zone that
year. The German agencies involved in tracking them had informed the
American commander that ‘they also believe the POWS to be receiving very
bad treatment’. 135 In the Neuhammer mines in Silesia, the mortality rate was
15 per cent: 5,400 dead. The Jaworzno camp claimed 1,817 military and
civilian lives. The total number of deaths in the camps is given at 4,500, but
the figure seems suspiciously low. 136 In Warsaw the Germans rebuilt the his¬
toric centre, putting back the buildings destroyed in the Blitzkrieg of 1939
and the wide-ranging destruction of the historic heart of the city which was
effected after the Warsaw Uprising. There were still 4,240 German POWs
left in Poland in 1950. 137 One who never returned was Gauleiter Koch, who
lived to a remarkably ripe old age in a Polish prison.

There were still 600 Germans toiling in the uranium mines of the
Joachimstal of Czechoslovakia in 1950 to feed the Russian A-bomb pro¬
gramme. 135 The Czechs claimed that 1,250 POWs were killed of the 25,000
prisoners they had. 139 The Yugoslavs were among the most draconian.
The official figure for deaths of POWs in their custody stands at 6,215, but
that number is considered ‘too low by far’. Around 80,000 would be closer
to the truth. 140 One of the lighter duties these prisoners had to perform
was the construction and decoration of Tito’s new summer palace and later
guest house on Lake Bled. A painter was called in to decorate a double¬
cube room on the first floor with blood-curdling scenes depicting the
battles between Tito and Hitler’s forces. The German POWs played all the
roles, from the slain who littered the field of battle to the Yugoslav warriors
who pierced them with their bayonets. 141 The final batch of 1,300
Germans was sent home in 1949. 142

The Return of the Warrior

Once the POW was released, the homecoming could be bitter-sweet.
Ruth Friedrich was horrified by the sight of returning German warriors in
the American Sector of Berlin. ‘Oh, great God! How bad misery can be!’

426

WHERE ARE OUR MEN?

The rags of the Germans contrasted with the smart uniforms of the
Americans as they walked through Steglitz on 30 July 1945. Some lacked
arms, others legs, they showed signs of illness and plague, they were aban¬
doned and lost. 143 The experience of returning soldiers forms the
background to some of the early stories of the Nobel Prize-winning nov¬
elist Heinrich Boll, and provided the theme for the play Draussen vor der Tiir
(Outside the Door) by the writer Wolfgang Borchert.

Borchert and Boll both lived through those times and spoke from ex¬
perience. Borchert, an aspiring actor who had been on the Eastern Front,
had been wounded and shipped home but was then obliged to return to
the colours before he was truly mended. The illness he incurred from poor
hospital treatment was to kill him at the age of twenty-six. Draussen vor der
Tiir was first performed on 21 November 1947, the day after his death. It
was later filmed as Liebe 1947.

In the play, the NCO Beckmann returns from Siberia to find his wife in
bed with another man. He tries to drown himself in the Elbe but the river
rejects him. He becomes part of the mass of alienated German men, whose
defeat and complicity in crime had rendered them rebarbative even to
their own women: ‘your Germany is outside, in the rainy night, on the
street’. 144 Beckmann carries the responsibility for a minor massacre of his
own men. He wants to rid himself of it. He goes to see his colonel, in the
hope of passing the responsibility on to him. The colonel is prosperous and
doesn’t want to know. Beckmann looks for his parents. They are dead.
They had been Nazis and had been thrown out on the streets at the end of
the war - they also are ‘outside the door’. They had preferred death to
denazification. Early on he meets a lugubrious God, but he fails to find
him again: ‘Where is he then, the old man who calls himself God?’ Doors
are slammed in his face as he looks for work, women and humanity: ‘That
is life! There is a man, and the man comes to Germany and the man
freezes. He starves and he limps! He comes to Germany! He comes home,
and there is his bed, occupied. A door slams, and he is left outside.’ 145

It is a theme Boll returns to time and again. In Die Botsclmft (Breaking
the News) a soldier takes the effects of a dead warrior back to his widow.
When he arrives she is laughing with another man. He puts down the sol¬
dier’s wedding ring, watch and pay-book, and a few well-thumbed
photographs. The woman has to sit down, ‘and I realised that the war
would never be over so long as there was still someone bleeding from an
injury it had caused’. She wants to know whether her husband died in the
east. No, says the man who brings the news. “No ... in the west, in a
POW camp, there were more than a hundred thousand . . .”

427

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

“And when . .

“In July 1945,” I said softly.’

One difference between prisoners in British camps and those in
American captivity was that the British allowed the Germans to sport
insignia of rank and the Americans did not. In Boll’s story, ‘When the War
Was Over’, the little literary type is busy sewing his braid back on his uni¬
form as the soldiers head for Bonn and discharge in October 1945. The
narrator recounts his treatment at the hands of the British and the
Americans. He has been captured by the latter in April. The corporal asks
him, ‘Hitler Youth, SA or Party?’, to which he answers, ‘No.’ The
American then bawls at him and accuses his grandmother of various sexual
practices that he can’t properly work out as his English isn’t good enough.

When later an English corporal asks him for papers he says he has none.
He has sold his pay-book for a couple of cigarettes. The Englishman
searches him and finds a diary he has kept in captivity: a hundred closely
written pages made out of paper bags stapled together. In fury the corporal
tosses it into the latrine. No one is supposed to know what has been going
on.

428

The Trials

We had gambled, all of us, and lost: lost Germany, our country’s good
repute, and a considerable measure of our own personal integrity.
Here was a chance to demonstrate a little dignity, a little manliness or
courage, and to make plain that after all we were charged with, we at
least were not also cowards.

Albert Speer, Spandau: The Secret Diaries, London 1976, 14

T he Allies’ decision to indict the Nazi leaders had a precedent. Article
227 of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles called for a trial of major German
‘war criminals’, with the Kaiser at the top of the list — who, Lloyd George
proclaimed, should be hanged. It demanded the extradition of up to a
thousand Germans but proved a soggy squib: neither Holland — where
William II had been granted asylum — nor a largely unoccupied Germany
would agree to hand over the defendants. To show willing, the Germans
themselves put on a trial in Leipzig. Thirteen men were convicted, but as
they were perceived as heroes in Germany they all managed to escape. 1

At their various meetings, the Second World War Allies agreed on the
need to liquidate the top Nazis. The question was how? Should they suffer
summary execution, a drumhead court martial, or should the victors risk
a trial? 2 When the fate of the ‘war criminals’ was discussed in Moscow in
October 1943, the American secretary of state, Cordell Hull, was in favour
of a drumhead court martial. The Soviet delegation could not have
approved more strongly. As their Nuremberg judge, General Iona
Nikitchenko, put it: the accused were ‘war criminals . . . who have already
been convicted’. It was the British and Anthony Eden who reminded the
conference of‘legal forms’. Legal form was clearly important, but they all
knew whom they wanted to eliminate. The British prosecutor, attorney-
general Sir David Maxwell Fyfe, put it in a nutshell: ‘Our work ... is to see
the top-notch Nazis tried, condemned, and many of them executed.’ Hull’s
master, Roosevelt, was in favour of shooting them, and appointed a judge

429

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

to look into the possibility. His advisers, however, told the president that it
would be illegal. America switched course and called for a trial, and Soviet
Russia joined in. By this time the British had changed their minds and
favoured summary execution! 3

If there were to be trials, there had to be a law to try them by — the old
maxim runs nulla poena sine lege (there is no crime without laws, sometimes
rendered as milium crimen sine lege). The Allies had to invent a body of law
that would criminalise Nazi offences and backdate it to cover the period in
question. It would be a code based on merging two conventions: the
Hague Convention on Land Warfare of 1907 and the Geneva Convention
of 1928, to which Germany (and not Soviet Russia) had been a party. It
had been argued that the Hague Convention had merely framed laws and
usages that had existed for centuries, but it had been assembled at a time
when, for example, aerial warfare was unknown and when guerrilla armies
were not taken into consideration. Some things emerged with crystal clar¬
ity: Article 23 of the Geneva Convention stated that it was an illegal act to
kill or wound a soldier who had laid down his arms. It was also illegal to
deny quarter. German soldiers had the Ten Commandments printed in
their pay-books. It was correctly assumed that those who slaughtered
POWs knew they had done wrong, and there were instances when their
comrades in arms shunned them as pariahs as a result.

The result of the fusion was ‘Nuremberg Law’. Nuremberg Law was the
basis of the Royal Warrant of 18 June 1945 used in the military courts in
the British Zone. The British defined the ‘war crime’ as a violation of the
laws and usages of war. Stalin threw everything he could at the invading
German armies; and he did not play by the book. German soldiers were
rightly terrified of falling into enemy hands alive. Savage reprisals were
directed towards the civilian populations of the Soviet Union when
German troops were slaughtered behind the lines. It was a policy that had
been losing German armies friends since the time of the Franco-Prussian
War, but it was an accepted ‘usage’ allowed by Article 453 of the British
Manual of Military Law. As the Labour MP and KC Reginald Paget put it,
‘It was really unreasonable to expect the Germans to fight these all-in
wrestlers in accordance with the Queensberry rules.’ 4 The Americans were
even more ruthless: ‘one shot merited the destruction of a village. You will
see the result in some heaps of rubble in Bavaria and Franconia. As they
advanced, if a shot was fired from a village, they either stopped, or evacu¬
ated, and whistled up the air force. The isolated heaps of rubble in this
relatively undamaged countryside are very striking. The result was that the
Americans had very few casualties.’ 5

430

THE TRIALS

The Germans were to be judged for their behaviour in foreign territory.
This was inserted at the behest of the Russians and the French. It involved
the treatment of civilians: murder, abuse, deportation, slave labour; the
murder of prisoners of war, killing hostages, plunder of public or private
property, ‘the wanton destruction of cities, towns or villages, or devastation
not justified by military necessity’. 6 ‘Genocide’ was a new word for a rel¬
atively new crime. The destruction of the European Jews figured as only a
small part of the case against the Germans in the early trials. The killing of
German and Austrian Jews on the territory of the Greater German Reich
was not automatically covered as it was theoretically the legal right of a sov¬
ereign state to dispose of its citizens as it pleased. On the other hand there
was agreement that Julius Streicher should be done to death, so legal nicety
had to be bent a little as he was not really guilty of any other crime that had
been brought to the Allies’ attention. 7 The persecution of German and
Austrian Jews at home was therefore vaguely included under the aegis of
‘aggression and the preparation for unjust war’.

For the Russians the massacre of Jews was hardly of interest, although
half a million of their Jewish citizens were slaughtered by the Nazis. The
reason for this was the rampant antisemitism they themselves experienced
after the war in reaction against the upsurge in Zionism. On the other hand
the prosecution found the Final Solution increasingly useful when it came
to breaking down the defendants. Films of the concentration camps had a
sobering effect even on such seasoned performers as Goring and Fless. By
the time the trials were under way no German was an antisemite any
more. As one later commentator glibly put it, ‘there was hardly a defendant
who could not produce evidence that he had helped some half-Jewish
physics professor, or that he had used his influence to permit a Jewish sym¬
phony conductor to conduct a little longer, or that he had intervened on
behalf of some couple in a mixed marriage in connection with an apart¬
ment’. 8

There was very little call for retribution from Jewish groups at first.
Flenry Morgenthau remained a voice in the wilderness, and Truman for
one wanted to keep him there. He later resigned in a huff. Zalman
Grinberg, president of the liberated Jews in the American Zone, accused
the Allies of a lack of concern, and wondered whether this would have
been the case if another race had been the victim of a similar purge.
Morgenthau continued to thunder, as did the presidential adviser Bernard
Baruch and the columnist Walter Winchell, but they were not greatly
heeded. On the other hand the enormity of the crimes committed by
Germans did provoke Americans to calls for the severest punishments in

43i

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

the spring of 1945. Joseph Pulitzer of the St Louis Post-Despatch thought
150,000 Nazis should be shot. Congressman Dewey Short of Missouri
advocated mass executions of SS and OKW men. 9

The hypocrisy of Nuremberg Law alarmed many people. One was the
Indian jurist Rahabinode Pal, a judge in the Tokyo trials, who dissented
from the judgments, seeing the sentences meted out as retrogressive, ‘a
sham employment of legal process for the satisfaction of a thirst for
revenge’. Field Marshal Lord Montgomery also disapproved of the tenor of
the trials that ‘have made the waging of unsuccessful war a crime, for
which the generals of the defeated side would be tried and then hanged’.
He understood that if the Germans had won the war, he might have been
put on trial himself.* Shordy after a British Military Court in Hamburg sit¬
ting in the aptly named Curio-Haus had condemned Field Marshal Erich
von Manstein to eighteen years in prison, the Korean War broke out, and
the German press was happy to report that the American army was accused
of precisely the same atrocities as the field marshal. 10

Many contemporary observers agreed with Pal and believed the scores of
trials that took place after the end of the war were simply a case of victors’
justice. These dissenters included soldiers, jurists and judges. The Soviets,
who provided a general as their prosecutor in the main trials in Nuremberg
(he had been involved in fake trials in the 1930s and later became the direc¬
tor of Sachsenhausen concentration camp in its first years under Soviet
management) and a more junior officer as a judge, constantly reminded the
Western Allies that the purpose of the tribunals was to punish the defeated
enemy. Yet the Soviet attitude was in some senses the most lenient, because
they of all the nations that had defeated Nazi Germany were the most
likely to have committed atrocities on a similar scale.

Reginald Paget KC was one of the most stentorian voices raised against
the trials. He agreed to lead Field Marshal von Manstein’s defence team
gratis, describing the Royal Warrant as ‘simply an exercise of the power of
the victor over the vanquished’. As far as he was concerned, none of the
convictions would have been secure in an English court, and they would all
have been quashed by the Court of Appeal. For Paget the conqueror had
no right to impose a form of trial which he ‘would consider inadequate for
his own citizens’. 11

And yet something needed to be done. The Germans had performed
terrible acts. To claim that what they had done was in no way illegal

* Sir Bernard Freyberg’s bombing of the Benedictine abbey of Monte Cassino killed around
400 Italian civilians who had taken refuge there, and not one German.

432

THE TRIALS

because they were obeying higher commands or putting through the secret
policies of the state was simply not good enough: not all Germans had sat
around waiting for homicidal orders; many had acted on their own initia¬
tives. Trials would also have the further advantage of recording the acts of
the Nazi regime, providing a huge quantity of sworn evidence about the
workings of the state. They would also have the effect of laying the blame.
The American prosecutor Justice Robert H. Jackson made it clear: they
were not trying the German people, just the men in the dock. Although
many condemned the trials at the time, a precedent was set for war crimes
and crimes against humanity and there is little protest against global juris¬
dictions today. Clay realised that the courts were establishing something.
Writing to Jacksons successor Colonel Telford Taylor on 17 October 1947,
he said, ‘At Nuremberg we are establishing procedure for [the] future and
not aiming at any specific individuals. History will make no distinction
between a von Rundstedt and a von Leeb.’ 12

Under Nuremberg Law, the implication was that any officer who
received what was later liable to be interpreted as a criminal command must
refuse to carry it out, although — as Paget pointed out - both the British
and American Manuals allowed superior orders to be used as a defence for
‘criminal’ actions. 13 In reality that meant an officer had to resign his com¬
mission. In Nazi Germany the response would have been a court martial
and a firing squad. Colonel General Beck did resign his command in 1938,
and encouraged other generals to follow his example (none did), but that
was not in wartime. He was one of the movers and shakers behind the vari¬
ous military and civil plots to remove or kill Hitler between 1938 and 20
July 1944, when finally he did indeed pay with his life.

Suggesting that generals had absolute authority within their areas of
command was also to misunderstand the nature of Hitler’s regime. Like
Stalin, the Fiihrer was a great believer in impera et divida. He alone had
enjoyed unrestricted power; the underlings had to jostle for position
beneath him. On the battlefield this became a struggle for control between
the SS and the Wehrmacht. The SS reported to Himmler, who answered
to Hider. The Waffen-SS had the advantage of better equipment, while the
traditional army tended to lead the campaign under experienced generals,
the majority of whom hailed from the traditional, Prussian officer corps.
The SD was responsible for the dirty work behind the lines. It, too,
answered to Himmler, but its actions within the Wehrmacht domains were
agreed by the general commanding, which — as so often in Hitler’s state -
involved making the traditional general complied in the actions of the SD
either by co-operating with it or by agreeing to take over its functions by

433

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

rounding up commissars, partisans or Jews. It was not Hitler’s or Himmler’s
intention that anyone should emerge from the conflict with clean hands.
Even diplomats were obliged to sign memos that said they agreed with the
policy of deporting the Jews.

Paget pointed out that ‘usages’ were not considered binding in the British
Manuel of Military Law and ‘could be disregarded by belligerents’. There
were other fishy aspects to the Royal Warrant that had been taken from
Nuremberg Law: the accused was not allowed to know the charges nor what
evidence was adduced against him; he could not challenge the authority or
jurisdiction of the court; he could not insist on being tried by his peers - and
was generally subjected to the judgments of those holding inferior rank and
therefore diminished responsibility. The Royal Warrant disregarded the long-
established rules of evidence and admitted hearsay. The statements of hearsay
witnesses were not only given credence, the witnesses were not summoned
and could not be cross-examined. There was no right of appeal. 14

Paget also made it clear that the defendants remained prisoners of war,
because Britain had not brought hostilities to an end. As POWs they could
demand particular treatment. POWs had rights in international law: the
captor had to treat them as well as he did his own troops and subject them
to the same law as he would apply towards his own men. 15

Interrogations

Before the German war criminals could be put on trial they needed to be
apprehended and interrogated. The British, for example, possessed a
remarkable collection of Nazi-hunters. They included men who later
achieved fame in other spheres, such as Robert Maxwell 16 and the histor¬
ian Hugh Trevor-Roper. The interrogations and the accumulated details of
Nazi crimes had another role - they could be used against the German
population. Trevor-Roper was compiling his report for British intelli¬
gence at the time. It was published as Hie Last Days of Hitler and was
considered to be excellent propaganda for the Allied cause. Trevor-Roper
hardly needed to be encouraged to belittle the Nazi leadership and show
the Germans how foolish they had been to follow them.*

* Information from Blair Worden, August 2004: Worden is Lord Dacre s literary executer.
The Last Days of Hitler was not intended for publication and Trevor-Roper was surprised
when British intelligence consented. Any interrogations he carried out were concerned with
the report. They had nothing to do with collecting evidence for Nuremberg or other
trials.

434

THE TRIALS

Maxwell was a Czech Jew and many of those employed to find the
Nazis were Jews from Germany and Austria. They had the ability to inter¬
rogate Germans in their own language, and in many instances they felt a
real sense of motivation in their work. These included Peter A. Alexander,
a former bank clerk from Vienna. Major Frederick Warner (formerly
Manfred Werner from Hamburg) and Lieutenant-Colonel Bryant (Breuer)
formed part of an eighty-man team that arrested, among many others, the
chief of Bremen’s Gestapo Dr Schweder. They left him in the hands of a
group of RAF officers, who he thought would treat him relatively kindly.
They did not, and staged a mock trial in the best Gestapo tradition, so that
Schweder thought his last hour had come. When Warner returned
Schweder was oveijoyed to see him. 17

Peter Jackson (formerly Jacobus) was responsible for arresting the
Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Hoss, having tracked him down to a
farmhouse kitchen where he was hiding. His superior officers were aware
that Jackson’s mother had been killed in Auschwitz, but they still believed
he was the only man for the job of interrogating the prisoner. The revul¬
sion Jackson felt towards Hoss could be overcome only by drinking large
quantities of whisky. He was allegedly drunk for a week. 18

Former Pioneer Anton Freud was the man who captured Dr Tesch,
who had produced the gas for the ‘showers’ at Auschwitz. Freud’s team also
apprehended Himmler’s deputy, Oswald Pohl, who was delivered to
Nuremberg and condemned to death. Fred Pelican (born Friedrich Pelikan
in Poland) was the man who caught Hans Esser, the Nazi leader in Neuss
in Silesia. Flight Sergeant Wieselmann was involved in the search for the
killers of the fifty British airmen who were shot after the Great Escape. A
Sergeant Portman worked on the dossier concerning the deaths of 7,000
Jews who had died while being transferred from one concentration camp
to another.

One Nazi who particularly interested the British was William Joyce, the
American-born, half-Irish fascist who was known to all and sundry as
Lord Haw Haw. He had fled from Hamburg and was living in an inn near
the Danish border with his wife. On 28 May 1945 two British officers were
searching for kindling in the local wood. Joyce, who was doing much the
same, couldn’t resist giving them a hand, and shouted to them in French,
telling them where they might find some pieces of wood. He then repeated
himself in English: ‘There are a few more pieces here.’ His voice was
instantly recognised. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be William Joyce, would
you?’ Joyce put his hand in his pocket. The officer thought he was going
to draw a gun and shot him in the leg. Joyce groaned that his name was

435

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Fritz Hansen (his forged German papers said his name was Wilhelm
Hansen), but he was still carrying his military passport, which had him
down as William Joyce. He was taken back to Britain, where with doubt¬
ful legality he was tried for treason and hanged in Wandsworth Prison. 19

Despite the huge dragnet and the large forces at the Allies’ disposal, very
few of the top Nazis were executed. Many of the most important ones like
Hitler and Goebbels killed themselves before capture. Others managed to
commit suicide in captivity. A surprisingly large number of leading Nazis
were able to take poison behind bars, posing the question whether the
Allies turned a blind eye to such things. In his memoirs, Franz von Papen
claims that he was offered means to take his own life on two occasions,
both times by American guards. 20

Himmler, the most important war criminal after Adolf Hitler, never
reached the courts. He had been spurned by Donitz and issued instructions
to the leading SS men around him to disappear while he lay low in
Flensburg with his mistress and their children. The leading lights of the SS
were provided with false papers and cyanide capsules. Himmler himself
assumed the identity of Sergeant Heinrich Hitzinger of the Field Service
Police, a man whom he had had executed for defeatism. He shaved off his
moustache and, putting a patch over one eye, set out to join the
Werewolves in Bavaria. Unfortunately for Himmler the Allies had out¬
lawed the Field Service Police, and on 21 May the British picked him up
halfway between Hamburg and Bremen.

The British failed to recognise him. Eventually Himmler revealed his
identity himself. He still thought he had something to offer the Western
Allies, and asked for a meeting with Montgomery or Churchill. At Second
Army HQ at Barfeld he was strip-searched. A Captain Selvester found two
brass tubes on him. It is not altogether clear why they did not search his
mouth. Selvester alerted Montgomery’s intelligence chief Colonel Michael
Murphy. Murphy decreed that the formal interrogation should not begin
before he arrived. Selvester ordered some thick cheese sandwiches
for the prisoner and watched him as he ate. An intelligence officer could
not resist taunting Himmler with some photographs of corpses taken
at Buchenwald. Himmler shrugged him off: ‘Am I responsible for the
excesses committed by my subordinates?’ 21 It was an extraordinary re¬
sponse: of course he was.

Himmler was brought a change of clothes, but he refused to don a
British army uniform, preferring to wrap himself in a blanket. He was still
insisting he wanted to see Montgomery or Churchill. Colonel Murphy
arrived at eight and had Himmler bundled into his car. Murphy handled

436

THE TRIALS

him roughly and called him a ‘bastard’. He was driven to a villa outside
Llineburg and ordered to strip again by a Sergeant-Major Austin. Himmler
responded by saying, ‘He does not know who I am.’ Austin replied, ‘Oh
yes I do: you’re Himmler. Ausziehen!’ Himmler was then examined by Dr
C. J. L. Wells, who noticed the phial in his mouth. Himmler was too quick
for them, however, and was able to flick the phial out with his tongue and
crack it. There were attempts to save him, but the effect of the poison was
immediate. Himmler died just after 11.00 p.m. on 23 May. He was buried
in an unmarked grave on the Heath two days later. 22

Goring took a long time to realise that the Allies were not going to treat
him, or anyone else for that matter, according to the rules that had
governed VIP prisoners in previous wars. On 7 May 1945 US forces com¬
manded by Brigadier Robert Stack were searching for him around
Mauterndorf* in Austria, where he possessed one of many mansions. The
Gorings were still half convinced that they were going to be shot after
Hermann had tried to wrest authority from the Fiihrer in the bunker.
There was a large SS guard with them. The Americans and Goring were
converging on Fischhorn Castle near Zell-am-See, which had been requi¬
sitioned for the latter’s used Here Goring was hoping to negotiate with
Eisenhower. When the Americans arrived, Goring was still bogged down
in traffic in a car laden with his monogrammed pigskin suitcases.

He had been out of touch with reality of late. He had badly overplayed
his hand with Hitler, and persisted in believing that Eisenhower would deal
with him directly. The Americans were generally courteous for the time
being, and Goring posed for photographers in Kitzbiihl the next day.
Some said he had been seen talking to American officers on the balcony of
the Grand Hotel with a champagne glass in his hand. 23 He was encouraged
to blab about other Nazi leaders at informal gatherings. This was part of
the process of softening up the prisoner. He was still cross with Hitler for
ordering his arrest and described him as narrow-minded and ignorant.
Ribbentrop - never his favourite — was a scoundrel, and Hess an eccentric.
It was not until the 10th that he came face to face with General Spaatz, the
commander of the US air force. Then the Americans took him into the

* Goring had been left the medieval castle by Hermann von Epenstein, the Jewish doctor
who was his mother’s lover and Hermann s godfather. Hermann s Christian name was most
probably in homage to the doctor and freshly minted nobleman. David Irving, Goring: A
Biography, London 1989, 26—7.

j* The castle was owned by Hermann Fegelein’s brother Waldemar. Hitler’s brother-in-law
Hermann Fegelein had been executed in the Chancellery garden a few days before. The
castle was teeming with further SS men, something calculated to make Goring no more
comfortable.

437

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

kitchen and stripped him of his medals and insignia, leaving him only his
epaulettes. He was housed in a prison compound for high-ranking Nazis,
with a tall black soldier posted outside his door.

He discovered Robert Kempner among the American officers.
Kempner had been in Police Department ia, the political police that had
sired the Gestapo. He had been sacked by Rudolf Diels in January 1933,
and as a Jew he then thought it prudent to leave. Goring must have realised
that Kempner would be a powerful adversary. The Americans asked him
about the concentration camps. The man who had nominally hosted the
Wannsee Conference denied all knowledge. He pointed out that Hitler had
been deranged at the end of his life. He later denied that he had ever signed
a death warrant or sent anyone to a concentration camp.* Shown pictures
of Dachau he blamed Himmler. 24

The robber-in-chief now had the disagreeable experience of being
robbed himself. US army engineers discovered his picture collection in
Berchtesgaden: works by Rembrandt, Rubens, Van Dyck, Boucher and
Botticelli were all hauled out. One Rembrandt bought in Paris in 1940
turned out to be a fake. French Moroccan soldiers had already pilfered
some of his jewellery; a GI stole his field marshal’s baton, which was inter¬
cepted at customs and eventually found its way into the collection at West
Point; his 1935 wedding sword was stolen by a platoon sergeant who placed
it in a bank vault in Indiana. Later his wife Emmy was defrauded of an
emerald ring by a sergeant who came to tell her that Goring was about to
be released. 25

Prison Walls

On 20 May 1945 Goring was flown to Mondorf-les-Bains in Luxembourg
to join fifty-two other Nazi big fish in ‘Ashcan’, Allied Supreme
Headquarters Centre for Axis Nationals. The gloves were off: Goring was
treated with scant respect when the aircraft landed. He was struck by the
monotonous movements of the GIs’ jaws churning up their chewing gum. 26
The prisoners were strip-searched for poison and weapons, and anything of
value to them was taken away. The first to arrive had been Arthur Seyss-
Inquart, who had succeeded Kurt von Schuschnigg as chancellor at the

* In June 1940, Goring told Hitler he had had two Catholic priests sent to a concentration
camp because they had failed to rise when he entered a Rhineland inn. He gave orders that
they should have to give the Nazi salute to one of his old caps every day. Henrik Eberle and
Matthias Uhl, eds, Das Buck Hitler, Bergisch Gladbach 2004, 123.

438

THE TRIALS

Anschluss, and had later been Reich commissioner of Holland. He had been
responsible for throwing all the leading Austrian non-Nazis — including a
sizeable number of government ministers — into Dachau and beginning the
persecution of the Jews.* In Holland he bore responsibility for the deporta¬
tion of most of the Jews. Hans Frank was next, much the worse for wear
after slashing his wrists. He had been the governor general of Poland who
proclaimed his mission to be ridding ‘Poland of lice and Jews’. 27 Goring was
reunited with Frank, Bohle, Brandt, Daluege, Darre, Frick, Funk, Jodi,
Keitel, Ley, Ribbentrop, Rosenberg and Streicher. The Americans dubbed
him ‘fat stuff’. Three days later there was a fresh delivery: Admiral Donitz
arrived together with Speer. Speer did not stay long. He was flown to
Eisenhower’s HQ at Versailles and then to the British-run interrogation
centre named ‘Dustbin’ in the medieval castle of Burg Kransberg in the
Taunus. Here he received a visit from Hugh Trevor-Roper, who was then
researching his Last Days of Hitler. They seem to have got on: in the summer
of 1947 Trevor-Roper sent a copy of the book to Speer for his comments. 28

Franz von Papen was delivered to Mondorf in May 1945, but he was not
considered important enough for the Grand Hotel, where the leading Nazis
were lodged, and went to a smaller establishment next door instead. He had
been pushed further and further out of the nest, as ambassador to Austria
before the Anschluss and then as ambassador to Turkey He was still claiming
to be surprised that he had been arrested at all. He had been housed in some
comfort in a chateau near Spa in Belgium where he had the Hungarian
regent Admiral Horthy for a cellmate.f Horthy also accompanied him to
Mondorf. 29 Papen and Horthy s regime was Spartan, and the elderly regent’s
health began to suffer. Papen claims in his autobiography that he tore the
notorious American gaoler Colonel Andrus off a strip for maltreating a head
of state. Papen’s prison was beginning to establish itself as the place for the B-
stream Nazis. Soon they were joined by Schwerin von Krosigk and the
Freiherr von Steengracht from the German Foreign Office. There were now
six to a room. Papen tried to pin Andrus down on the subject of the Hague
Convention governing prisoners of war. Andrus shook him off, but pennis-

* Those who had enforced the ban on the NSDAP were singled out for particularly harsh
treatment: politicians, judges and the guards at the Corporate State’s own concentration
camp at Wollersdorf in Lower Austria. The hangman who had executed the Nazi partici¬
pants in the assassination of chancellor Dolfuss in 1934 did not survive the first night in
Dachau. See Bruno Heilig, Men Crucified, London 1941.

f Horthy had been Hitler’s ally, but Hitler had had him deposed after he started negotiat¬
ing with the Allies. One reason why the two fell out was Horthy’s refusal to ‘deport’
Hungary’s large Jewish population. Hitler had him interned in 1944. He did not return to
Hungary and died in Estoril, Portugal in 1957.

439

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

sion was swiftly granted to write letters. On 15 June Joachim von Ribbentrop
was brought in. He had been tracked down in a bed and breakfast in
Hamburg, having spent six weeks on the run, during which he had composed
a letter to the British government. He was arrested after a tip-oif on the 14th.
A British lieutenant found him in bed, dressed in pink and white pyjamas.

The old rivalries and hatreds persisted. There was a ridiculous adherence
to correct forms of address. Even after the sentences were pronounced,
Speer would ask the former deputy Party leader, ‘What did you get, Herr
Hess?’ 30 Goring could not abide Ribbentrop, Speer or Donitz. With
Donitz the feeling was clearly mutual. Once when Goring was complain¬
ing that his lot was the worst, because he had more to lose, Donitz acidly
remarked, ‘Yes, and all of it stolen!’ Goring was interrogated by Major
Hiram Cans and Lieutenant Herbert Dubois. Dubois asked him if he were
ashamed of the milliard-mark fine imposed on the Jews in 1938. Goring
expressed his muted regrets: ‘You have to take the times into account.’ He
soon got the hang of how to deal with the interrogations. When a Russian
team arrived to prepare their case he had them roaring with laughter. 31

The Trials

The Allies were now finalising the procedure for the war-crimes trials
that were to be held in Nuremberg. On 8 August the ‘London Statute’ was
drawn up and signed by Justice Jackson from the United States, the future
Lord Chancellor Sir David Maxwell Fyfe from Britain, Professor Gros
from France and General Nikitchenko from the Soviet Union.
(Nikitchenko started out as prosecutor and later served as a hanging judge.)
It was hardly difficult to tear holes in the text: there were four different
powers with four different ideas of law. One of the nations prosecuting was
as totalitarian as Nazi Germany had been. There was little hope for the
defendants: the prosecution had all the advantages, the defence all the dis¬
advantages; and there was to be no questioning of the competence of the
tribunal. Article 6 contained the meat — the court had the right to con¬
demn persons, either as individuals or as members of organisations, for
crimes against peace and conspiracy to wage war, war crimes and crimes
against humanity. These had not, of course, been crimes when they were
committed, nor were any of the prosecuting powers immune from accus¬
ations of this sort - particularly Soviet Russia. When the defendants
brought this up the response of the court’s president Lord Justice Lawrence
was to say, We are not interested in what the Allies may have done.’ 32

440

THE TRIALS

Article 9 ruled that carrying out orders was not an excuse; evidence of
atrocity by a member of an organisation would be taken as evidence of the
criminal nature of the organisation. The defendants at Nuremberg were
mostly intelligent men, and there was a fair smattering of jurists among
them. Naturally they protested, but it was cogently impressed upon them
that they might just as easily have been put up against a wall.

Although the Allies had plenty of time to prepare their cases, a lot of
their accusations proved groundless, or they were obliged to let a major
criminal go free for want of evidence. Papen was still falsely accused of
being a member of the Party even when the Americans were in possession
of the full Nazi Party membership archive. The case against him was that
he had conspired to wage aggressive war, which was a difficult one to prove
given that he was nowhere near the inner circle of the regime, and came
within inches of losing his life during the 1934 Rohm Putsch, the so-called
Night of the Long Knives. His real crime was folly — believing that Hitler
could be contained. He was by no means alone in this.

Papen and his friend Horthy had not yet understood the new post-war
world. Horthy composed a letter to Churchill pleading for the main¬
tenance of a ‘big’ Hungary with access to the sea as a bulwark against
Bolshevism. There was no reply. In August the inhabitants of the annexe
were transferred to a wing of the Grand Hotel. Horthy was sent away.
Papen now found himself together with the major Nazis, and reflected on
how different they looked in their shabby beltless uniforms and worn-out
laceless shoes to the last time he had seen them all strutting about at a rally
in Nuremberg in 1937. Nuremberg was also where they were now head¬
ing. The party was taken to Luxembourg aerodrome.

Goring was housed in a proper prison cell in the courthouse now, as
opposed to a maid’s room in Mondorf. He was watched at all hours of the
day. Humiliations were arranged for him, such as a formal discharge from
the German armed forces (arranged by the Americans), which had the
effect of bringing on a minor heart attack. The Allies turned up the heat
during the interrogations, but Goring was given a defence lawyer in Otto
Stahmer from a short list of jurists who had managed to keep their noses
relatively clean during the Third Reich. It should be added that few of
them were entirely clean: the list contained 206 names, of whom 136
had been Pgs and 10 were former members of the SS. One, Rudolf Dix,
had been president of the Nazi bar association; another, Ernst Aschenbach,
had been an expert in deportation attached to the Paris embassy. 33 Stahmer
was a patent lawyer. Papen chose a Breslau lawyer called Kubuschok, with
Papen s own son acting as his junior. Speer made a wise choice in Hans

441

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Flachsner, a diminutive Berliner who gave him useful advice, telling him not
to over-dramatise his role in the Third Reich and pointing out that the Allies
had already decided he was only a minor criminal and that he was not to put
on the airs of a major one. Speer was probably right in believing he owed
a deal of his salvation to Flachsner. Being contrite, or undergoing religious
conversion, availed the prisoners litde. Both Frank and Seyss-Inquart showed
contrition. Both were hanged. 34

To Papens horror he chanced upon Horthy again on one of his weekly
trips to the showers. Papen was beginning to learn something of the
charges against him: he had instituted the terrible People’s Courts, which
had been set up after the acquittal of the Bulgarian communist Dimitrov.
It was not a charge that was likely to stick. The Americans were under¬
standably baffled that Papen had continued to serve the Nazis after the
Rohm Putsch, when his speechwriters were murdered for writing an anti-
Nazi speech for him. 35 Another who claimed that he had no idea why he
was there was Donitz. Hitlers successor stressed that it was not for generals
to take decisions to go to war, and had he refused to carry out his orders
‘he would have received the heaviest punishment’. He was also charged
with using concentration-camp inmates as workers in his dockyards. 36 The
charge was pretty pharisaic, given that the Allies had millions of POWs
working as slaves for them at the time of the trial.

John Dos Passos arrived in Nuremberg on 19 November 1945 to cover
the trials. The arrangements in the courthouse were compact. For the
spectators and journalists the facilities were good, and they had their own
post office and a smart snack bar. 37 The chief defendants were housed in
the basement and brought up in a lift. Then it was just a few steps down
the corridor to the courtroom. 3 ' 5 There was a consolation for Goring, at
last: at Nuremberg he regained his supremacy. He was number one on the
list, meaning that he was the first into the dock with a seat on the front
bench at the extreme right facing the judges. The hated Bormann — tried
in absentia — was down at number nineteen and Speer at twenty-two.
Donitz had been positioned at a measly fourteen.

His neighbour in the dock was Rudolf Hess, who was flown from
England to Nuremberg on 8 October. After his mysterious flight in May
1941, Hess had been incarcerated in Britain. He was now brought home for
the gathering of the clans. The frugality of prison life in Nuremberg came as
a shock to him after the relative comfort of his confinement in Britain. He
was pretending to have lost his memory and stared stonily at everyone who
tried to remind him of details of his distinguished past. He later announced
that he had been acting all along: ‘Good wasn’t I? I really surprised everyone,

442

THE TRIALS

don’t you think?’ he asked his fellow inmates. Despite being officially compos
mentis Hess still paid no attention to the court. He would not wear the
headphones, but read books and chatted throughout the proceedings. 39

As Hess could not be indicted for most of the juicier atrocities com¬
mitted by the regime (which had taken place while he was in British
captivity), he was given the Streicher treatment and tried for conspiracy
against peace and humanity - a charge concocted for Nazi leaders who
were earmarked for long detention or execution, and who had been essen¬
tially condemned before they entered the dock. His crimes were not great
by comparison to some: he was tangentially involved in the drafting of the
antisemitic Nuremberg Laws and with the invasion of Poland. Goring
laughed off many of the Allied accusations. He swiftly dealt with an
attempt to foist responsibility for the Reichstag Fire on him, and the inter¬
rogator, Kempner, did not raise the matter again. Goring might well have
begun to waver when he learned that the Americans had arrested his wife
Emmy in October and put his daughter Edda in an orphanage (although
she was later allowed to join her mother in Straubing Prison). Emmy was
not a political figure. She and Edda were eventually released when the
Americans realised that this sort of Sippenhaft — a method favoured by the
Nazis — would not make it easier to justify their cases before the courts.

Goring stood his ground, however. He had a positive attitude towards
life and for the time being was not tempted to follow the examples of some
others: Ley managed to strangle himself with the hem of a wet towel
attached to a lavatory cistern, and the mass-murderer Dr Leonardo Conti
also killed himself, leaving a note saying he had lied under oath to cover up
his knowledge of medical experiments. 40 Field Marshal Werner von
Blomberg died of a heart attack in March 1946.* In 1948, General Johannes
Blaskowitz committed suicide by jumping from the third storey of the
prison block."!

In all this gloom Goring might have taken heart at the news that his IQ

* Blomberg had been out of the picture since January 1938, and had not even played a role
in the Anschluss. Hitler managed to push him out of the way when it was discovered that
he had married a former prostitute. His conscience cannot have been said to be clear, how¬
ever, as it was he who brought the army in behind Hitler, in recompense for the murder of
Rohm and the others who would have had the SA take over from the traditional
Wehrmacht. The Night of the Long Knives had seen the killing of army officers as well, but
Blomberg was happy to celebrate its success with a slap-up meal with Goring at Horcher s
restaurant in Berlin.

J Blaskowitz s suicide is odd for the fact that he was one of the few generals to file a formal
complaint about the activities of the SS, in this case after the invasion of Poland. There was
a rumour that he did not take his life at all, but was murdered by SS men.

443

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

was placed third among the remaining Nazi prisoners, exceeded only by
Schacht and Seyss-Inquart. 41 * The time of surveys ceased, however, when
on 19 October 1945 Goring and the others were served their indictments
by none other than Major Airey Neave, a British intelligence officer who
had successfully escaped from Colditz and who would later become a
member of Mrs Thatcher’s shadow cabinet. 4 German civilians took a
muted interest in the show trials. Goring may have impressed the court, but
little of this seeped out to the German population. Such reports as there
were of the trials were heavily censored. The radio broadcasts delivered by
a Gaston Oulman every night were confined to the more sensational
aspects of the prosecutions case. 42 In Berlin, Ruth Friedrich thought the
indictments had little relevance to ‘good Germans’ but she approved, as it
gave heart to the Allies. ‘Not so much for us, but for the farmer in
Oklahoma, who wants to make sense of his son’s missing leg.’ 43

Papen had finally learned that he was charged with conspiracy to wage war.
Dos Passos, who arrived on the day before the trials were to start, heard an
address from Colonel Andrus, in which he regretted to inform the press that
the former SD chief Kaltenbrunner was ill and would miss the first day. He
seemed disappointed that he had not managed to keep all of them fighting fit
for the premiere. Frick was paralysed in his left wrist after a suicide attempt,
but Goring was in better health than he’d been in twenty years, having lost
weight and been weaned off drug addiction. 44 The trial of the major war
criminals began at 10 a.m. on 20 November. The president of the court Lord
Justice Lawrence was assisted by Francis Biddle from the US, and his deputy
JohnJ. Parker. From France came Professor Henri Donnedieu de Vabres, who
scribbled away silendy throughout the trial without ever uttering a word. The
Germans had a particular contempt for General Nikitchenko, the one judge
who disdained the use of the gown, and wore his military uniform through¬
out: ‘We knew what his verdict would be, with or without a trial.’ 45

Dos Passos sized up the prisoners in the dock: Goring looked like a
‘leaky balloon’, ‘a fat man who has lost a good deal of weight’. Ribbentrop
was a ‘defaulting bank cashier’, Schacht, ‘an angry walrus’. The former
head of the Luftwaffe was still ‘the master of ceremonies . . . Nero must
have had a face like that’; while Hess paid ‘no attention to anything’. 46

* Papen remembered things differently: he was third, after Schacht and Speer. Streicher came
last, ‘a position which could have been occupied by almost any of the other Gauleiters’.
(Franz von Papen, Memoirs, London 1952, 547.) Speer, on the other hand, recalled that it
was Seyss who had won the intelligence competition. He modestly concealed his own place
in the line-up. (Albert Speer, Spandau: The Secret Diaries, London 1976, 9.)
f He was murdered by the IRA in 1979.

444

THE TRIALS

The charges were read out and Jackson made a speech in which he
offered the estimate that 5.7 million Jews had lost their lives as a result of
Nazi orders. Most of the defendants claimed they knew nothing of this.
Schacht advanced the ingenious argument that he had been helping the
Jews to emigrate by framing legislation that would rob them; Streicher
claimed to be a Zionist, which, in a way, he was. 47 During the recess
Goring was asked who had issued those orders. Goring replied, ‘Himmler,
I suppose.’ 48 The camps came back to haunt them: films were shown of
their victims. The psychiatrists Kelly and Gilbert took notes as the defend¬
ants watched scenes of civilians being burned in a barn. Hess was
captivated, others tried to look away; Frank choked back tears; Funk actu¬
ally shed some at the sight of the crematorium ovens. When Hess muttered
disbelief, Goring told him to shut up. 49

Goring indulged in a few jokes. There was a strong Jewish presence at
Nuremberg in the form of jurists attached to the army, translators and
interpreters. At one stage he spotted a group of Jews in the public gallery
and whispered: ‘Look at them, nobody can say we have exterminated
them all!’ 50 He was outraged by the testimony of Lahousen, the Austrian
Abwehr chief, who spoke on 30 November, giving details of the plans to
kill Hitler. Goring blurted out, ‘That’s one we have forgotten to knock off
after 20 July 1944.’ 51 The leading Nazis could not shake off the accusations
levelled against them for the very reason that they had been slack about
destroying the evidence - too many papers had lain around at the end of
the Thousand-Year Reich. The other problem was the officials and SS men
who were prepared to give evidence against them. Turning ‘king’s evi¬
dence’ for the prosecution was a way of saving your life for the time being.
Some of the worst criminals even stayed out of prison while they made
themselves available to the courts. 52

The apparently honest statements of the state secretaries Biihler and
Steengracht were particularly damning, as well as those of the SS men
Ohlendorf, Wisliceny, Hottl, Hoss and Pohl. One man who outraged all
the main defendants was Erich von dem Bach-Zelewski, possibly the most
brutal of the police generals, and one who was perfectly aware of the
crimes he was committing. 53 He may have just been buying a sort of free¬
dom (he died in a prison hospital in Munich in 1972). Before 1949 he
appeared as a prosecution witness no fewer than twenty times, earning
Goring’s loud condemnation as a ‘Schweinehund!’

That opening day was also notable for the surprise announcement
from Hess that he wished to take responsibility for his actions, and that he
had never lost his memory, he had been pretending all along. Hess was a

445

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

puzzle even to his own colleagues. Papen confessed that he didn’t know
if he were sane or not. He thought he had been compos mentis at the time
of the flight to Britain. During the trial he read novels by the Bavarian
writer Ganghofer. Goring, with support from his old enemy Ribbentrop
and from Rosenberg, persisted in his claim that the court had no author¬
ity and that the British and Americans were equally guilty of infringing
international law. He was occasionally seen plotting with Hess. Like the
other prisoners, he gave Streicher a wide berth. He was contemptuous of
Hans Frank, who had been smitten with religion since his incarceration
and was much given to tears — he had been behind the brutal treatment
of the Poles. Goring claimed to be shocked by what he now learned of
the camps, and declared that the story was incredible. But we also know
that he tried to save people from the camps, so it was pretty clear he
knew that something nasty went on there. 54

Goring could not claim so easily that he had had no knowledge of the
killings that took place on the Night of the Long Knives in 1934. It had
been chiefly his party. He dismissed Rohm, however, as a ‘dirty homosex¬
ual swine’ and justified himself by saying it was them or him. As Speer and
others sought to atone for their roles in the mass murders, or claimed a
dubious role in opposition, or — like Paulus — chose to implicate Hitler and
his gang in monstrous crimes, Goring started to talk about honour. He
didn’t care whether he lived or died, but he was not going to grovel before
the court. He urged the generals to be equally resolute. He said they were
all going to be treated as martyrs before too long, and their bodies set up
in mausolea like Napoleon’s.

When the defendants were shown a Soviet film of German atrocities,
Goring yawned and scoffed. With a little justification he pointed out that the
Russians did not necessarily occupy the moral high ground. As it turns out,
he was right to be scornful: the Soviet film showed images of Katyn, and the
mortal remains of a large element of the Polish officer corps, murdered not
by the Germans but by the NKVD. (The massacre was part of the Soviet
indictment.) He was, nonetheless, appalled by the images he had seen. 55

The defendants all took the trial very differently. Jodi was calm and sol¬
dierly, and awaited his fate. Seyss-Inquart thought he would be acquitted,
and told Viennese stories. The one thing that disturbed him was the
knowledge that Hitler had appointed him in his will to replace Ribbentrop.
Frank admitted his guilt and spent his time in meditation. He, Papen,
Seyss-Inquart and Kaltenbrunner were regular in their attendance at Mass.
Ribbentrop continued to write long letters in self-justification; Rosenberg
made pencil-sketches of the witnesses; Streicher let out cries and screams

446

THE TRIALS

during the night. To the end he maintained that the trial was the triumph
of world Jewry. 56 Of the service chiefs Keitel remained his pompous self,
pleading not guilty to the indictment, but Donitz and Raeder — who had
been turned over by the Soviet authorities in a rare gesture of co¬
operation - conducted themselves with dignity, as did Neurath. 57

The prosecution opened its case against Hess on 7 February 1946.
Goring took the stand at last on 13 March, and remained in the dock until
the 22nd. He had waited five months for his moment. He put on a fine
performance and refused either to grovel before the court or to deny his
role in the ‘movement’. He gaily quoted Winston Churchill’s line, ‘In the
struggle for life and death there is, in the end, no legality.’ 5 * He took
responsibility for everything he could, thereby removing much of the case
against Papen, for example, when he claimed that the Anschluss had been
his show. 59 Asked about some aspect of mobilisation, Goring answered that
the Americans had so far kept quiet about their own strategic plans. The
Americans now began to doubt the wisdom of this sort of public trial.
Goring was in danger of becoming a hero again. Even the American press
reported. ‘Goring wins first round.’ 60

There was a reluctance among the Allies to produce witnesses for the
defence, and it took them a while to locate Goring’s chief of staff, Roller,
even though he was in British captivity. 61 The British proved more suc¬
cessful at badgering Goring than the Americans had been. Under Sir
David Maxwell Fyfe’s cross-examination he began to sweat. The British
case hinged on the shooting of the fifty airmen after the so-called Great
Escape — a terrible crime and a contravention of the Geneva Convention,
but one that looks peripheral now compared to others perpetrated by the
Nazis. They had been shot on Emmy’s birthday. Goring may well have
known nothing about it, but that hardly absolved the Luftwaffe chief of the
ultimate responsibility for the crime. 62

One of the Nazis who dramatically turned his coat at Nuremberg was
Frank, the governor of the Polish General Gouvernement. Many of the
most repulsive acts of grisly murder and cruelty had occurred on his beat,
even if it was not necessarily true that the murderers were in any way
responsible to him. When asked if he had participated, however, he replied
with a clear ‘Yes’. It had been the testimony of Hoss, he said, that had made
him want to take the responsibility on to himself: ‘My conscience does not
allow me to throw the responsibility solely on these minor people. I myself
have never installed a concentration camp for Jews, or promoted the exist¬
ence of such camps; but if Adolf Hitler personally laid that dreadful
responsibility on his people, then it is mine too, for we have fought Jewry

447

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

for years; and we have indulged the most terrible utterances — my own
diary bears witness against me ... A thousand years will pass and still this
guilt of Germany will not have been erased.’ 63

The atrocities in the concentration camps nettled even the most ob¬
stinate Nazis. After the camp commandant Rudolf Hoss had given his
testimony Goring turned to Raeder and Jodi and said, ‘If only there
weren’t this damned Auschwitz! Himmler got us into that mess. If it
weren’t for Auschwitz we could put up a proper defence. The way it is our
chances are blocked. Whenever our names are mentioned, everybody
thinks of nothing but Auschwitz or Treblinka. It’s like a reflex.’ 64

Some of Goring’s greatest crimes were not even mentioned in the
indictment. Nowhere did the Allies make mention of the bombing of
Warsaw, Rotterdam, London or Coventry. The Soviets, who had not pos¬
sessed the capacity to bomb Germany with the same ferocity as the
Anglo-Americans, had wanted to bring the matter up, but it was vetoed by
the West. For good reason, thought Speer: ‘The ruins around the court¬
house demonstrate all too plainly how cruelly and effectively the Western
Allies on their part extended the war to non-combatants.’ 63

Goring addressed the court for the last time on 31 August 1946. He re¬
iterated the precept of nulla poena sine lege and declared that the German
people were ignorant of crime and ‘free from blame’. He would expiate
their guilt with his martyrdom. 66 Less dramatically perhaps, he reminded
the court of his efforts to negotiate a peace in 1939 — behind Hitler’s back.
More and more was leaking out from the courts. It was not just the
Germans who were shocked. In Bendorf in the Rhineland, Elena Skijabina
thought the whole process hypocritical, and the bench’s impartiality com¬
promised by the judges from her own land. On 1 September she wrote:

Recently the Nuremberg trials have been creating great interest. Now they
are over. The accused have been most severely punished and rightly so.
However, who were the judges? When I think that the most savage meas¬
ures of punishment were being demanded by the representatives of the
Soviet Union, I cannot help but feel oppressed by the injustice of it all.
Indeed, the Soviet Authorities have destroyed and are right now destroying
millions of their own people for nothing whatsoever. No other country in
the world has so many jails and camps. 67

The French academic Robert d’Harcourt had no reason to love the
Germans, having had two sons pass through Buchenwald. He was even
harder hitting in his accusation of hypocrisy: the Germans ‘are not angry
with the fliers who destroyed their towns today, it is the judges. By their

448

THE TRIALS

attempts to forcibly convert them the Allies have lost most of the moral
high ground that they had obtained through victory. To take on the role of
Solomon presupposes a moral qualification. It is this moral authority that
the vanquished no longer recognise in the victors.’ 68

The summing up began on 30 September. The judges rehearsed the entire
history of the Third Reich, giving the impression that the trial was entirely
political. It was Lord Justice Lawrence who read out the sentences: his speech
lasted a day and a half. The defendants slept ill that night. Lawrence began
with Goring, who was found guilty on all four counts and sentenced to death
on 1 October. Apart from Hess — who was given life — similar sentences were
meted out to those seated on the front bench until the judge reached Schacht.
Goring flinched when Schacht was acquitted, then slammed down the ear¬
phones in disgust. Hess was not wearing his earphones and later told Speer
that he had assumed he had been awarded the death penalty, but he had not
bothered to listen. 69 In the back row there were custodial sentences for
Donitz and Raeder, then came Papen, who was also acquitted. In Berlin
25,000 workers downed tools in protest when they heard the news about
Papen. 70 The Russians still insisted he was an important Nazi.

Goring’s counsel entered a plea in mitigation, again mentioning his
efforts to maintain peace in 1939 — moves that must have been known to
the British government at least. The British had no desire to modify the
sentence, and the government issued an instruction to Sir Sholto Douglas
in Berlin that such a thing would not be politically expedient. As it was, the
Soviet judge, Nikitchenko, had called for the three acquitted men, Schacht,
Papen and Goebbel’s deputy propaganda chief Hans Fritzsche, to be con¬
victed, and wanted the death sentence for Hess. 71 Schacht had been
liberated because his role in the expropriation of the Jews was a pre-war
internal matter, but Streicher had been sacked as Gauleiter of Franconia in
1940 and banned from public speaking two years before. Fritzsche believed
he had been tried because Goebbels was not around to take the rap.

After the sentences those on ‘death row’ were creamed off — Goring,
Ribbentrop, Keitel, Jodi, Streicher, Sauckel, Frick, Rosenberg, Seyss-
Inquart, Frank and Kaltenbrunner. The cellar of the courthouse emptied,
leaving the condemned men to themselves. The seven men who were
eventually to be transferred to Spandau Prison in the British Sector of
Berlin were provided with new cells upstairs: Hess, the economics minis¬
ter and Reichsbank chief Walter Funk, the Grand Admirals Donitz and
Raeder, the Hitler Youth leader Baldur von Schirach, the former foreign
minister and ‘protector’ of Bohemia and Moravia Constantin von Neurath
and Speer. They had been given sentences ranging from ten years to life.

449

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Goring cheated the executioners by taking cyanide from a phial he had
managed to conceal from his guards. One of the reasons he gave for his
choice of end in the note he left in his cell was the Allied decision to film
the deaths of their prisoners. The gallows equipment arrived at Nuremberg
on the night of 13 October. The next day hammering could be heard from
the gymnasium, and the slave-driver Fritz Sauckel had begun to scream. In
the absence of Goring, the other Nazis went to their deaths at the
appointed hour on the 16th. Ribbentrop was now the leader. The hang¬
man botched the execution and the rope throttled the former foreign
minister for twenty minutes before he expired. The others died as
planned.* Speer could hear them being collected from their cells: ‘scraps of
phrases, scraping of boots, and reverberating footsteps slowly fading away’.
When Streicher’s name was called, someone cried, ‘Bravo, Streicher!’ Speer
thought it was Hess. As they went to their deaths, the others shouted
words of defiance. Keitel’s last utterance was ‘Alles fur Deutschland.
Deutschland iiber alles’ (All for Germany, Germany above all else).
Ribbentrop, Jodi and Seyss-Inquart said something similar. Streicher
chanted, ‘Heil Hitler! This is the Purim Festival^ of 1946!’ 72 The bodies
were photographed. On 16 October they were taken to a house at 25
Heimannstrasse in Munich-Solln which the Americans had been using as
a mortuary. They were inspected by Allied teams before they were cre¬
mated. The ashes were scattered into the Conwentzbach seventy-five
metres downhill from the house — a muddy, Bavarian ditch. The cremated
were entered in the books under false names: Hermann Goring was Georg
Munger, and the scourge of the Jews, Julius Streicher, received the name of
Abraham Goldberg. 73

The next morning the seven men they left behind to serve out their
sentences were called to clean out the cells. Speer observed the remains of
the last meal in their mess tins. Papers and blankets were strewn about.
Only in Jodi’s cell was everything in apple-pie order, the blankets neatly
folded. On Seyss’s wall he noted that the former Austrian chancellor had
put a cross on the calendar for the 16th, the day of his death. In the after¬
noon Speer, Schirach and Hess were handed brooms and mops and sent
into the gym where the men had been hanged. The scaffold had already
been taken down, but — spotting a mark on the floor he took to be a
bloodstain - Hess stood to attention and raised his arm in a Nazi salute. 74

* The Berliner Zeitung reported that it had taken Ribbentrop 14 minutes 45 seconds to die, and
Jodi a little longer. Ruth Andreas Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, Frankfurt/Main 1985, 148.
f A spring festival to commemorate a plot to massacre the Jews.

450

The Little Fish

A Prosecutor cannot also be a judge . . .

Justice is by its nature light, which also renders the shadows starker.
The less passion is reflected in its source, the clearer the crime emerges
in its hideousness.

Ernst Jiinger, Der Friede, Vienna 1949, 50, 51

Lesser Nuremberg Trials

T he Allies put a brave face on it, but the International Military Tribunal
had not been deemed a success and it was put in mothballs. Robert
Jackson was ‘thoroughly disenchanted’ with the trials. He had particularly
disliked the methods of the Soviets. The Allies had in fact taken stock of
the criticisms levelled at the trials. The presence of a Russian judge on the
bench (and a general rather than a jurist) had been an embarrassment. It
was decided that the Allies should try their own Nazis in their own zones.
That way the ideological differences between the Allies would be less
immediately obvious. Jackson had recommended to Truman that any more
international trials of this nature would have to be held in Berlin. This
never happened, of course. 1 Nuremberg would go on, but as a solely
American jurisdiction. After the first eleven victims had been despatched,
the cells filled up with new inmates who were to pass before the tribunal.

On 8 September 1947, while the Krupp and ‘Stormtrooper’ trials were
in full swing, Clay tried to whittle down the number of cases before the
Nuremberg court. He planned just six more: the big six banks; the Press
and Propaganda Office; the Foreign Office; those members of the military
leadership who had violated the rules of international warfare; the military
leaders responsible for the POWs; and the directors of the Hermann-
Goring-Werke. He could see no possibility of having them all and thought
about running some of them together. He was inclined to drop the

45i

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Hermann-Goring-Werke case, possibly the Press and Propaganda trial as
well. 2

When the final decisions were made, 185 men were arraigned before a
dozen tribunals. First was the trial of the medical doctors, which resulted
in seven death sentences; next that of Field Marshal Milch, who was tried
in solitary splendour for directing slave labour and sent down for fifteen
years. The third trial judged the Nazi judiciary; the fourth Oswald Pohl
and the concentration-camp hierarchy. Pohl swung, but two other death
sentences were commuted. Next in line were the industrialists from the
Flick Group, followed by trial six: the senior administration of IG Farben.
The next in the dock were the generals who had fought the battles in the
south-east. Field Marshal List received a life tariff. The RuSFIA (Race and
Resettlement Office) were trial eight. No death sentences were handed
out, but RuSFIA chief Richard Hildebrandt was shipped over to the Poles.
Ohlendorf and the other Einsatzgruppen (death squad) leaders were trial
nine. Five men were executed, one by the Belgians. Nine death sentences
were commuted. The tenth arraigned the twenty-three directors of
Krupps. Alfried Krupp received twelve years. The eleventh judged mem¬
bers of the German Foreign Office and other officials — the Wilhelmstrasse
case. The sentences were quite haywire, with Ernst von Weizsacker receiv¬
ing a seven-year tariff (later reduced to five) and a man who condemned
thousands to death in Auschwitz, like Edmund Veesenmayer, receiving
twenty years (reduced to ten). The last trial was for the generals who had
invaded Russia. There were no spectacular sentences, nor were they
handed over to the Russians. 3

Speer and the rest of the seven were still carrying out their menial
duties in Nuremberg. The architect was able to offer a smile to Alfried
Krupp one day, and on another occasion he saw the Alsatian surgeon Karl
Brandt. Fie had interceded on Brandts behalf when Hitler had had him
condemned to death for sending his wife and child out of Berlin. Brandt
gave Speer a sad wave. Speer claimed that he had not known that Brandt
had been in charge of the Euthanasia Programme and had initiated the
experiments on human beings in the concentration camps. 4 When the SS
leadership arrived, Speer observed, ‘These are all candidates for death
row.’ 5

Like many other prisoners, Speer was called upon to give evidence at
the trials of his former colleagues. Field Marshal Milch had been in charge
of armaments for the Luftwaffe, and had been closely allied to Speer. He
had requested labour from Speer, including concentration-camp inmates.
Speers use of slaves had been an important part of the indictment against

452

THE LITTLE FISH

him. He permitted himself a philosophic reflection in the secret journals he
was penning at the time: ‘Of course all these trials are judgements by the
victors on the defeated. In various ways I keep hearing that German pris¬
oners of war, contrary to law, are also being put to forced labour in
armaments and supply bases. Who here is the judge?’ 6

The Americans were insistent on the trial of the industrialists. The old
paterfamilias, Gustav von Bohlen und Halbach, had bequeathed his firm to
his son Alfried in November 1943 and gone into retirement. Before he did
so, he had Hitler enact a ‘Lex Krupp’ imposing primogeniture in violation
of the laws of Weimar, which were still in force in Hitler’s Germany. 7 As it
was eventually decided that Gustav was too ill too stand trial, the major
charges were heaped on Alfried, who had been taken prisoner when the
Americans went into Essen on 10 April 1945. Alfried suffered the usual
series of camps before being taken to the Nuremberg courthouse. After his
arrest American soldiers helped themselves to souvenirs at the Villa
Hiigel — typewriters, a portrait of Hitler, and a model cannon. 8 When the
British replaced the Americans in Essen they set about arresting the other
directors: they wanted to make an example of Krupps along with Flick and
IG Farben as ‘Samson’s hair’ - the symbol of Germany’s industrial might. 9
The idea of making Alfried responsible for his father’s crimes came from
the French. The Americans got cold feet about this and Gustav received a
seat in the dock at the main trial, which he was never to occupy. He died
in 1951.

The trial of the generals who had led the campaign in the Balkans was
considered a watershed. For the first time the second tier, the generals who
had acted on Hitler’s orders, became responsible for massacres. The
German advocates made a brave effort to prove that the taking and shoot¬
ing of hostages as reprisals for acts committed by partisans or guerrillas was
permitted in the British, American and French military manuals; and they
pointed out that a similar charge had been controversial in the Kesselring
trial, which the British held in Venice, and that the Manchester Guardian had
thundered, ‘This is not justice as we know it.’* They accused the British
military of sentencing a man to death for being a figurehead. 10 Cross-
examined, List pleaded a hard fight against non-regular forces. It was a
Balkan war, ‘harsh measures’ needed to be taken against partisans who
obeyed no laws, who fought ‘Balkan-style, treacherous and atrocious . . .’
It did List no good. 11 Tito had been on the Allies’ side.

The US Supreme Court had refused to grant leave of absence to its

* Kesselring s sentence was commuted to life. Both he and List were released in 1952.

453

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

members to serve in Germany, and the three judges in the Krupp case were
a member of the Tennessee Appeal Court, a member of the Supreme
Court of Connecticut, and another from the Supreme Court in Seattle.
This was a reasonable showing. There was resistance to using elected
judges, particularly from Clay. Non-professional jurists would lead to fur¬
ther criticism of the trials. Clay also resisted the idea of sending out a
number of black attorneys to work at Nuremberg — not because he
objected to them per se, but because Germany did not have a black popu¬
lation. 12

Alfried Krupp von Bohlen und Halbach had already suffered eighteen
months of detention before the trial began, and he maintained a dignified
silence throughout. An empty chair had represented his senile father at the
international trial. Now it was his turn to be judged — in loco parentis.
Thirty German lawyers had been engaged to defend the directors during
the eleven months of the trial. More than 200 witnesses were called. The
minutes run to 13,454 pages. 13 The directors were indicted for crimes
against humanity, pillage, appropriation, spoliation and exploitation. They
were also accused of participating in atrocities and being complicit in
deportation, imprisonment, and racial and religious persecution. A further
charge laid against them was planning aggressive war, despite the fact that
only two of them — Alfried and Ewald Loeser — had been on their boards
at the time. Evidence that would have been inadmissible in an American
court was accepted at Nuremberg. Some of it had as little value as common
gossip. The directors answered for any act performed by any one of a
quarter of a million employees.

Of course Krupps was up to its neck in the activities of the state. It prof¬
ited from German expansion in all directions and took over the running of
sequestered firms in France and Holland. It used armies of slave-labourers
who were treated with sickening cruelty. For this reason the sentences were
severe: Alfried was sent down for twelve years, to be spent in Landsberg
Prison. The other directors received similar tariffs. In addition to this
Alfried was relieved of all his personal property. He was the only man tried
at Nuremberg to receive this punishment. The president of the court
thought the decision ran counter to the law and dissented. 14 The Krupp
case showed up many of the weaknesses of the Allied jurisdiction: Alfried
had wanted to use an American lawyer, but that was not permitted. He had
then decided not to defend himself, but that was also not allowed. The
German lawyers demanded a conference room, but this was not granted
either. When they left the court in protest, they were brought back by
force and six of them were arrested for contempt. 15

454

THE LITTLE FISH

The jurists’ trial opened in March 1947. Some of the worst Nazi lawyers
had been spared by premature death. Among them was the president of the
People’s Court, Roland Freisler, who had been crushed under a wooden
beam during an Allied raid on Berlin in February 1945. Hans Frank had
been executed by the Poles. A large number of jurists had killed themselves
as they saw the regime fall. One of these was the minister of justice, Otto-
Georg Thierack. In all, sixteen defendants stood trial; including the three
state secretaries Franz Schlegelberger, Curt Rothenberger and Herbert
Klemm. The others were officials from the People’s Court. The judges
examined 2,093 exhibits and questioned 138 witnesses. They reached their
verdict in December 1947. They have been praised for their impartial and
balanced approach: ‘If anything, the judgment erred on the side of cau¬
tion.’ 16 Some of the German jurists were exonerated. Four life sentences
were handed down.

The Wilhelmstrasse trial arraigned twenty-one senior civil servants.
There was a slight modification of the London Statute and of Control
Council Law 10 of 20 December 1945, in that the court finally recognised
the principal of milium crimen sine lege, if only in international law, which was
a fairly nebulous jurisdiction. 17 The names included Ernst von Weizsacker,
Wilhelm Keppler, Ernst Bohle, Ernst Woermann, Karl Ritter, Otto von
Erdmannsdorff, Edmund Veesenmayer, Hans Lammers, Wilhelm Stuckart,
Walter Darre, Otto Meissner, Otto Dietrich, Gottlob Berger, Walther
Schellenberg, Gustav Adolf Steengracht von Moyland, Schwerin von
Krosigk, Paul Korner and Paul Pleiger. It was a hotchpotch of Nazi and
non-Nazi diplomats and civil servants which included some who had acted
counter to the interests of the regime, some who had simply toed the line —
like Schwerin von Krosigk — and murderers like Veesenmayer. Veesenmayer
had been allowed to continue at liberty while he gave evidence against his
former colleagues. He had freely surrendered to the Allies, but he con¬
tinued to see them as his enemies: ‘I am a criminal who must be
exterminated.’ But he was not executed, despite his role in the deportation
of Hungary’s Jews. He was released from Landsberg Prison in 1951.

In the case against the diplomats, four old-school examples (Weizsacker,
Woermann, Erdmannsdorff and Ritter) were flanked by the same number
of Nazi outsiders (Steengracht, Keppler, Bohle and Veesenmayer). As
Margret Boveri knew, it was not always possible to see them as wholly
black or wholly white. Weizsacker stuck his neck out for a few Jews here
and there; Steengracht, his pure Nazi successor, managed (by adding a zero
to the figure of 400 Hungarian Jews who had been given permission to
travel to Sweden) to save a further 3,600. 18

455

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

The case for the prosecution ran to 39,000 pages of which the British
evidence alone amounted to 28,000 pages. The bundle was made up of
3,400 documents. The main arguments against the defendants dealt with
crimes against humanity, the deportation of the Jews and their murder in
concentration and annihilation camps. 19 Ernst von Weizsacker is now
acknowledged to have been one of the first and most important opponents
to the regime operating in the German Foreign Office, but as state secre¬
tary he had been singularly powerless to prevent or alleviate the tragedy of
those years. His own son Richard is clear on this: ‘from documents and
spoken report he knew more than enough to reach his own decisions’. 20
The state secretary saw it as his role, to the extent of his powers, to prevent
the outbreak of the war, and, once he had failed there, to limit its effect by
averting the war against the Soviet Union. We now know much more
about this than we knew then. We know, for example, that Weizsacker was
a party to the despatch of Adam von Trott first to Britain and later to the
United States, to explain the position of the German opposition. Indeed
Ribbentrop himself had said that the only reason that Weizsacker was not
arraigned before Roland Freisler and the Peoples Court was that on 20 July
1944 he was already safe behind Allied lines, as ambassador to the Vatican.

Once in the Vatican, Weizsacker had been free to protect Jews from the
maniacal purge that was put into action after Italy went over to the Allies.
The prioress of the nunnery of Our Lady in Sion attested to the fact that
he had directed 185 Jews to her door and issued her with a letter that for¬
bade the SS from searching the premises. 21 The question arose whether
Weizsacker was actually a traitor, in that he had warned the British ambas¬
sador, Nevile Henderson, that Germany was about to sign a pact with
Russia in August 1939. Was he thereby willing defeat on his own country
and the death of his country’s own soldiers? Weizsacker was categorical: ‘I
wanted peace without Hitler, but not a defeat that would lead to Hitler’s
ejection.’ 22

The indictment, however, accused Weizsacker of supporting Hitler’s
war policy and making it possible, which his son describes as the ‘absolute
and grotesque opposite of the truth’. On the other hand the defence case
was not easy, as the witnesses were foreign statesmen, who were not always
easy to subpoena. The British did much to sabotage his case by putting
pressure on diplomats and former ministers to stay clear and reveal nothing
of Weizsacker’s role in the various plots of 1938 and 1939. One exception,
however, was Lord Halifax, who gave a ‘helpful and honest testimony’ for
the state secretary. 23 Among the more damning accusations brought to
bear in the case was the contention that Weizsacker had allowed himself to

456

THE LITTLE FISH

utter the Nazi slogan ‘Deutschland erwache!’ (Germany awake!) at the
funeral in Paris of Ernst vom Rath, the German diplomat murdered in
1938 by the Jew Herschel Grynspann. Vom Rath’s death was used as a pre¬
text to launch the Reichskristallnacht on 9 November that year.
Eyewitnesses maintained he had done no such thing. As the coffin was
despatched to Germany Weizsacker had actually said ‘Deutschland erwartet
Dich!’ (Germany is waiting for you!), which was nothing less than the
truth. 24

Richard von Weizsacker managed to have himself attached to the
defence team, despite the fact that he had yet to be called to the bar. The
greatest difficulty he had with the Allied jurists in Nuremberg was that they
were still infected with ‘Vansittartism’ and had yet to learn the real nature
of the Third Reich. Americans also had a particular problem with diplo¬
matic language, and the double meanings with which men such as
Weizsacker sought to conceal the real sense from the Party authorities, as
their internal memoranda show. 25

The American prosecutor was the former Prussian civil servant Robert
Kempner. He had worked closely with Carl Schmitt, who was also held as
a prisoner in Nuremberg. On Kempner s authority Schmitt was released in
May 1947. Others were also released from their more severe punishments
once they had come to an understanding with Kempner. 26 Such methods
did not work with Weizsacker. He shunned the quid pro quo and relapsed
into an injured silence. The case lasted eight months. On 13 April 1949
Weizsacker was sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment, which was later
commuted to five as already noted. One of the three judges dissented and
said he should be freed. John McCloy thought so too. In the autumn of the
following year he released the former state secretary as his first response to
the Nuremberg judgments

Even after three of the Einsatzgruppe commanders had been con¬
demned to death at Nuremberg in 1947, they managed to stave off
execution by giving evidence at the trials of their peers. Writing after his
unsuccessful attempt to defend Field Marshal von Manstein, Reginald
Paget wondered whether Otto Ohlendorf had actually been telling the
truth to Himmler. How had he managed to kill so many Jews with such
limited resources? Ohlendorf was credited (in a Nazi sense) with having
wiped out up to 90,000 Jews during his four-and-a-half-month tenure of
Einsatzgruppe D. The strength of his unit lay at around 500 men divided
into five companies; of these, 200 men served as clerks. Each company had
just ten vehicles.

Otto Ohlendorf is a puzzling case. He was a Nazi humanist who, while

457

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

he was murdering Jews in huge numbers, was rebuilding schools and hos¬
pitals for the Volga Germans. Ohlendorf described his methods at his trial.
Jews were required to register before ‘resettlement’. This was the pretext
for taking them to their deaths. Then they were ferried to a ditch some ten
kilometres outside the town and shot where as few people as possible
would witness the killings. During this time the SD were also fighting par¬
tisans, who were active in their sectors. Paget found it incredible that
single companies of SD were able to claim that they were killing between
10,000 and 12,000 Jews in two or three days. The maximum number of
Jews that could have been accommodated in a lorry was twenty to thirty
and each ten-kilo metre journey would have taken near on two hours to
load, unload, assemble, kill and return to the town or village to fill up
again. It was claimed that the SD had killed 10,000 Jews in Simferopol, but
by Paget’s calculations the number could not have exceeded 300.

Ohlendorf claimed that he had rid the whole Crimea of its Jewish
population: ‘He was clearly a man who was prepared to say anything that
would please his employers. The Americans had found him a perfect wit¬
ness.’ 27 Paget thought he was lying to save his skin, telling Himmler what
he wanted to hear. In which case why did he not try to save himself at
Nuremberg? If mass slaughter was not a big element in Ohlendorf s cur¬
riculum vitae after all, if — as Paget suggests - the figure of 90,000 needs to
be shortened by a nought or two, it hardly exonerates him from the charge
of mass murder, nor did he ever try to deny it himself. Indeed, he was chill¬
ingly factual about the killing of children. Once again he took pains to
point out that the Allies had not been particularly scrupulous about it
either. 28

The final trial of the Nuremberg twelve took place in 1948. This show
was reserved for the General Staff and the OKW. One of those indicted was
General Walther Warlimont, a mere pen-pusher who had been responsible
for operations and whose sin was an unquestioning loyalty to the regime.
He was accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity and sent down
for life. The case hinged on the two orders that infringed the laws of war:
the Commando and the Commissar Orders. Warlimont was punished
harshly because he was perceived as one of the planners, whereas Gerd von
Rundstedt (‘My Fiihrer, whatever you order, I shall do to my last breath’) 29
was able to settle in West Germany after four years in a POW camp. In
1951 Warlimont s sentence was reduced to eighteen years. He was released
six years later.

458

THE LITTLE FISH

Elsewhere

The British made a first stab at administering justice by dealing with the
culprits at Belsen. They were put on trial in the nearby town of Liineburg.
Josef Kramer, the camp commandant, stood in the dock with forty-four
others on 17 September 1945 in a converted gymnasium at 30
Lindenstrasse. This was the first of the trials, a dress rehearsal for those that
came later where international, rather than German law would be
invoked. The defendants were accused of war crimes. It was hard to prove
that they had done more than callously neglect their charges, as there were
no gas chambers at Belsen and the prisoners had been given food, though
not nearly enough. The cases against Kramer and Dr Fritz Klein were
easier to prove, in that both had worked at Auschwitz, where they had
been cogs in the killing machine. It is interesting to record now that the
indictment said nothing about Nazi genocide nor about its specifically
antisemitic character.

In the dock along with Kramer, Klein and the ‘Blonde Beastess’ Irma
Grese were a number of Polish kapos, former prisoners whose improved
status had allowed them to wallow in acts of brutality. Various lawyers in
khaki were roped in to defend the SS men and women, and did it as dili¬
gently as they could, even describing Kramer as a scapegoat. The legal
formula of nulla poena sine lege was of course ignored, prompting compari¬
sons with the Nazis themselves: those indicted had not broken any German
laws as they went about their business at Belsen. Reading an account of the
trial now, it is striking how many inaccuracies were allowed to pass and
how little the British knew about the workings of the camps.

As far as Irma Grese was concerned, there was an indecent amount of
prurience expressed in the British press about her fate. She was blonde and
good looking. She had also been involved in the selections at Auschwitz,
where she had a reputation for brutality without parallel among the female
guards. The court adjourned on 16 November and delivered its verdicts after
six hours and eight minutes: eleven people, including Kramer, Klein and
Irma Grese, were condemned to death. Kramer submitted an appeal to
Montgomery, but it fell on deaf ears. Klein refused to appeal, saying that his
part in the Final Solution ‘was such that he was not fit to live’. Britain flew
in Albert Pierrepoint to carry out the executions. They died on 12
December. 30

The concentration-camp trials were to continue for twenty years. The
Belsen trial was a warm-up for Nuremberg. The staff at Stutthof camp near

459

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

Danzig were also arraigned. Seventeen SS guards and five block supervisors
were executed and fifty-eight others given sentences of up to fifteen years.
The British hanged Sturmbannfuhrer Max Pauly, second in command, but
after the Allies ceased to be responsible for the nemesis the West German
courts were often disgracefully lenient. Pauly’s successor, Paul Werner
Hoppe, was given a nine-year sentence. One sadistic guard received two years
from a Hamburg court, and Otto Knott, who fed the gas chamber, was set
free by a court in Tubingen. 31

One of the more controversial sentences was that meted out to Field
Marshal Erich von Manstein, who had always received a good press, particu¬
larly in Britain. Manstein, however, was in his way every bit as blinkered as
Warlimont, and would not have been described as a general with a ‘heart’. In
one of his more ridiculous moments he had stood up before Hider and
exclaimed ‘Fiihrer befehl! Wir folgen!’ (Fiihrer command! We shall obey!).
Hitler had thought he was mocking him, and Manstein later received a
hefty reprimand behind closed doors, leaving Hitlers bunker like an admon¬
ished schoolboy. The source for the story was the SS man Otto Giinsche,
who would not have been sympathetic to the stock-Prussian general, but
Manstein’s unappetising coldness and stiffness is well attested, and his response
to an overture to co-operate with the military opposition (‘Prussian generals
do not mutiny’) was as telling as it was untrue. 32

It was the British who subsequently tried Manstein. They awarded him
a heavy sentence, but he was released after only four years and at the end
of his life was an adviser to Adenauer’s government on military matters —
an indication of how seriously the war crimes tribunals were taken by West
German conservatives. The probable reason for the harshness of his pun¬
ishment was the clamour from the Soviet Union. Manstein’s charm worked
little on the Soviets, who would almost certainly have killed him. Reginald
Paget, on the other hand, thought Manstein a perfect gentle knight, the
‘Hector’ of the Wehrmacht, and the longer he represented him, it seems,
the more he grew to like him. Paget formed a team with Sam Silkin (who
being Jewish was making a statement by taking on the case) and two
German lawyers, Drs Laternser and Leverktihn. The former had already
defended Field Marshal von Leeb before an American court and Kesselring
before a British one; the latter had worked in Canaris’s Abwehr, and had
come under suspicion himself when Canaris and his team were arrested by
the Nazis.

Once again Paget learned that you would get nowhere by citing cases of
similar atrocities carried out by Allied armies: the Allies were above reproach.
But there was a great deal more readiness on the part of the British to

460

THE LITTLE FISH

socialise with the German defence team. The Americans had treated them as
pariahs. 33 Once the trial began Paget was to note more features that con¬
tributed to the miscarriage of justice. One of these was the right to bring in
photographers to snap the defendant over an extended period at the begin¬
ning of the trial, which made it resemble Nazi justice, and the journalists
present filed stories that would have been sub judice in an English court. As
it was not a ‘real’ trial they were immune from accusations of contempt.
Another rub was the simultaneous translation. The defendant could listen to
a translation of the case as it proceeded, but the interpreters were often not
up to the task. 34

Manstein was not the only important general to be omitted from the line¬
up at Nuremberg. As we have seen, Field Marshal Albert Kesselring was tried
by the British in Venice for atrocities carried out under his command there.
These included the massacre of 335 Italians in the Ardeatine Caves and
another 1,087 people killed in reprisals after attacks by partisans. Kesselring
mounted an impressive defence, showing that the SD and not he had respon¬
sibility for security. He was nonetheless sentenced to death. The verdict was
controversial enough for Churchill to intervene with his successor, and
Kesselring’s sentence was commuted to life imprisonment. In 1952 he was
released after a serious head injury. 35

The IMT dry-run for the Americans was the Dachau trial in November
1945. In the dock were the commandant Martin Weiss, four SS doctors and
the seventy-four-year-old Professor Klaus Schilling, the malaria expert who
had been trying out his theories on the prisoners. There were forty people
indicted in all and the court handed down thirty-six death sentences. General
Lucien Truscott, presiding, later commuted four of these, but not
Schilling’s. 36 Sepp Dietrich was the most distinguished SS general of the war.
Troops under his command were responsible for a vast number of atrocities,
particularly in the Soviet Union. At the end of the war he surrendered his
army to Patton at Krems, and was kept in a number of camps ending up with
his trial at Dachau. It was one of sixty-seven trials held in the former flagship
concentration camp which were to mete out death sentences. The main case
against him was the slaughter of between 300 and 600 American troops and
hi Belgian civilians at Malmedy, which was carried out under orders from
Jochen Peiper. The court dismissed claims that the SS men’s confessions were
extracted under torture. Peiper behaved with dignity in the dock, and
recounted some of the ways in which the interrogators had behaved — pre¬
tending that they already had signed confessions from the others, that his
death sentence was assured, that he would be better off saving his comrades,
and so on. Peiper s plea that international law allowed a certain leeway with

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

POWs in the heat of battle if that meant that victory could be ensured was
not entertained by the court. 37

On i6July 1946 the defendants in the Malmedy trial learned of their fates.
Forty-three men were sentenced to death by hanging, including Peiper;
twenty-two more received life sentences, including Sepp Dietrich. The pris¬
oners were then transferred to Landsberg Prison, the very place where their
former master Adolf Hitler had penned Mein Kampf. Dietrichs sentence was
commuted to twenty-five years in 1951, and he was released four years later.
Many of the men on death row survived. There was a discomfort felt by
many of the Americans who had been involved in the case. The presence of
so many Jews in the court, the way that the confessions had been extracted
and the fact that many of the Americans could recall their troops carrying out
similar illegal acts contrived to raise doubts about the security of the convic¬
tions. A year later the sentences were reviewed, with a number of the death
sentences being commuted. In the middle of 1948 there were still 150 men
in Dachau on death row. Clay still wanted to execute them. Most of them
wriggled off the hook in the end. A few months later there were ten cases on
his desk from the condemned men of Dachau: six writs of habeas corpus and
four who had been granted leave to appeal. Another ninety-five were still
supposed to be hanged. On 4 March 1949 Clay was anxious to dispose often
of the Malmedy murderers; twelve more were still on appeal.

He did not think much of their claims to have been tortured. On 12
March he examined the appeal of Sergeant Tank Commander Bersin of the
1st SS-Panzer Regiment: ‘He was forced to spend two months on a prison
floor, beaten and kicked by the guards to the extent of losing several teeth,
carried to the dental clinic and to interrogations with a hood over his head
and grossly mistreated in an interrogation of March 20 1946 by Mr
Kirschbaum in the presence of Mr Ellowitz.’ Clay had no doubts about
Bersin s guilt. The supposed torturers denied the charges against them. 38
Whatever Clay felt, the methods used to extract confessions had discredited
the trial. 39

On top of these he had nineteen death sentences from the Buchenwald
trial to ratify, including Ilse Koch — the ‘Bitch of Buchenwald’ — who had
managed to get herself pregnant. 40 She was the wife of Karl Koch, the camp
commandant, and was renowned not only for her collection of lampshades
but also for her fondness for riding through the camp on a horse and lashing
out at the prisoners. Her case presented particular difficulties. She had left
Buchenwald in August 1943 and no one seemed to know what she had done
after that. Clay commuted her sentence, but by doing so he aroused a storm
of protest. He found a way out of‘double jeopardy’: she could be transferred

462

THE LITTLE FISH

to the German courts because there were German nationals in Buchenwald.
This stratagem worked, and she was sentenced to life imprisonment. She
committed suicide in prison in 1967. 41

Dietrich’s life sentence was severely criticised, as no link could be found
between him and the murderous command. Unfortunately for him, Clay was
not prepared to revise the decision. On the other hand now only twelve men
remained on death row. Clay later halved that number again. The last six
were let off in 1951, at the same time as the revision of Dietrichs life ticket. 42

Germans accused of atrocities conjured up some ingenious arguments in
their defence, but as the courts had been able to impose their own rules they
stood little chance of success. So it was that the SS man Fritz Knoechlein,
accused of killing ninety-seven British POWs in cold blood, claimed that
there had been a Standgericht — or drumhead court — before the massacre,
something that was permitted by the rule book. On the other hand the court
was told that such a tribunal could not be set up once soldiers had laid
down their arms. POWs are entitled to protection by the opposing army. 43

The SS regimental commander Kurt Meyer was tried by a Canadian
court for ordering the killing of forty Canadian POWs. Meyer was effectively
being tried for atrocities committed by his regiment, as no evidence could be
produced to show that he had issued the fatal orders. Allied commanders
were mercifully spared this ‘chain of command’ principal. In general Meyer
impressed the court by his dignity at the trial. He was convicted, however, of
responsibility for the deaths of eighteen soldiers and sentenced to death by
firing squad. This was later commuted to life imprisonment by the general
commanding Canadian forces in Germany whose conscience, it is alleged,
was not entirely clean when it came to the actions of his own men in deal¬
ing with German and Italian POWs. Meyer was imprisoned in New
Brunswick before being transferred to the British high-security prison at
Werl near Dortmund, where he had Kesselring for a cellmate. He was
released in 1954. 44

The Canadians lost heart after that, and allowed the British to look into
atrocities perpetrated against their men after D-Day when widely circulated
rumours that Canadian and British troops were not taking prisoners led to
some scenes of savagery on the part of the SS.* Once again the orders to

* There must have been some truth in these allegations. When the author was living in France
in the early 1980s he met two people who had witnessed massacres carried out by Allied
troops: a man who had been eighteen at the time, and a woman who had been a child of six.
She had run out of the house to find British paratroops bayoneting German POWs in her
garden. A British friend of the authors who had studied at Heidelberg before the war and was
intelligence officer to his regiment, told him that he was unable to interrogate a single pris¬
oner after the massacre at Oradour-sur-Glane, because the British soldiers had killed the lot.

463

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

refuse quarter appear to have come from Wilhelm Mohnke. The killings at
a first-aid post were carried out by an SS man called Wilhelm Schnabel. His
superior officer, Bernhard Siebken, actively resisted implementing the orders
and was not present when the shootings took place. The trial began in
Hamburg on 28 August 1948. When Siebken was sentenced to death, a plea
was entered in mitigation, but the deputy judge advocate, Lord Russell of
Liverpool, decided that the court had pronounced the correct verdict. Both
men were hanged in Hameln by Pierrepoint on 20 January 1949. It was a
classic case of vis victis, or victors justice. 45

Another Nazi who was imprisoned in Dachau was the former Gauleiter
of Mecklenburg. Tisa von der Schulenburg travelled to Dachau to see
Friedrich Hildebrandt, who was implicated in the shooting of two
American airmen. She was told that she could not save him, even though
he had protected her and her sister-in-law after 20 July 1944. She tried to
understand why Hildebrandt, a ‘harmless’ man, would have ordered the
shooting of the fliers, and she remembered that it was in response to the
strafing of a train, in which a hundred people, chiefly women and children,
had been killed. Hildebrandt had decided that the next ‘terror-bombers’
that fell to earth alive would suffer accordingly.

The Germans Begin to Prosecute Nazis

Those who were liquidated first tended to be those who had committed
atrocities against Allied citizens. Hence the Russians wanted the heads of
the generals responsible for invading the Soviet Union; the Yugoslavs and
the Poles those who had performed that role in their lands; the Czechs
those who had administered their country. The Russians killed the SS
chief Friedrich Jecklen in 1946; the Yugoslavs the minister Siegfried Lasche
and the general Alexander Lohr; the Poles executed Josef Biihler, Jurgen
Stroop and Rudolf Hoss, and the more prominent Nazis in Danzig were
also passed though the Polish courts: the Gauleiter, Albert Forster, was
caught by the British and handed over to the authorities in Warsaw. He and
Richard Hildebrandt, head of the RuSHA, were executed. Before his
despatch, Greisser, the head of the Danzig Senate and Gauleiter of Posen,
was paraded in an iron cage through the streets of the city that had reverted
to its Polish name of Poznan . 46 The Czechs killed Karl-Hennann Frank,
Hanns Ludin and Dieter Wisliceny.

Officers who had ordered the killing of Allied POWs could expect
death sentences. Many who had ordered the killing of thousands of their

464

THE LITTLE FISH

own citizens escaped scot free: Mengele, Gestapo Muller, Alois ‘Jupo’
Brunner and others managed to elude the Allies, and some say that the
Allies connived at their disappearance. The Allies’ fury was quickly spent.
In the main Nuremberg trials sentences became lighter with the passage of
time; and even those given capital sentences or life often had the tariff
commuted or reduced. As the trials edged towards the end of the 1940s,
the fear developed among the judges that the Soviets were about to invade
western Germany and wind the proceedings up.

There was a large element of hypocrisy. Since that time many Allied
atrocities have come to light, particularly the killing of POWs at Biscari, on
orders from General Patton. The sinking of the French fleet at Oran by the
British, with the loss of some 1,500 French lives was no secret. It was a
continuation of a British naval tradition that originated at Copenhagen in
1801. The last German Kaiser had feared that it would happen to his
fledgling fleet. It was possibly a ‘usage’, but it can hardly be called any more
legal than the German Blitzkrieg.

The British made the decision to stop the trials in April, and in
September they handed the business over to the Germans. They passed
Nazi Party members before the Spruchkammer according to the American
Law for Liberation issued on 5 March 1946. Nazis were now being judged
by Germans, essentially their former political enemies in the SPD or the
KPD. The biggest calls for retribution came from the American Zone, as
a response to pressure from OMGUS, the American military government.
One of those arraigned before the courts was Winifred Wagner, who was
reduced to penury, cycling up to seventy kilometres a day to forage for kin¬
dling. In between foraging for wood, she put together a sixty-four-page
document on her relations with Adolf Hitler, appending copies of docu¬
ments showing how she had gone out of her way to help the oppressed of
the Third Reich. She also quite rightly pointed out that she had not
broken the law by joining the NSDAP at the time. 47

In her deposition, Winifred claimed to have only the vaguest knowl¬
edge of the concentration camps, though other documents showed that
she had been involved with trying to get someone out of Auschwitz. She
had probably been given poor advice, but by that time she had seen how
savage the courts had been with some of her friends, who had been guilty
of little more than Party membership. Particularly galling had been the
treatment accorded to her doctor Helmut Treuter, who was dispossessed
and imprisoned, largely as a result of denunciation by a rival. It was not
until November 1949 that he was able to practise again. Winifred feared
the worst. 48

465

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

She had no problem understanding the methods of her interrogators.
They were similar to those employed by the Gestapo, ranging from threats
to normal chit-chat. She learned that she had been indicted because she
had made Hitler ‘socially acceptable’. Meanwhile her daughter Friedelind —
an American citizen — was telling the world that Winifreds former lover,
Heinz Tietjen, had been used to interrogate British spies. It transpired that
she meant Hermann Goring (or ‘Teddie’, as he was known in the Wagner
household). Indeed, the case against Winifred relied substantially on the
account of the family’s history provided by her daughter’s book. 49

Winifred Wagner’s trial took place in Bayreuth. The principle was sauve
qui pent. Heinz Tietjen, who had directed the festival after Siegfried
Wagner’s death, cried off. His own denazification trial was coming up, and
he preferred not to venture out. Winifred was again scrupulously honest
about her belief in Hitler, which had seized her as early as 1923. Hitler’s
love of Wagner and Wagner’s hatred of the Jews were also aired at the trial,
though neither could have been said to have had any bearing on the case
against Winifred. The Spruchkammer showed an unfortunate bias towards
conviction that must have reminded many Germans of the proceedings of
the infamous People’s Court it had to some extent replaced. When one
witness said that she saw things ‘from a different point of view’, the pros¬
ecutor rejoined, ‘Your different point of view is of no interest to us here.’
It might have been Roland Freisler himself. 50

The prosecution called for Winifred to be classed grade one. If she had
provided help to victims of the regime, it had not been from sentiments of
opposition. They called for a sentence of six years in a labour camp and the
confiscation of her assets. As it was, Winifred was condemned grade two.
She had to do 350 days’ community service and yield up 60 per cent of her
assets. She was later reclassified as a ‘lesser offender’ on appeal. The initial
sentence proved controversial. Some Germans howled about the leniency
of the court. Foreigners sent her food parcels. As one Jewish friend con¬
ceded, her chief crime was succumbing to the widespread delusion that
Hitler had not been responsible for the crimes committed in his name. It
was a view she was later to express to a like-minded person, the historian
David Irving. To the end of her days Hitler was ‘USA’ — ‘Unser selige
Adolf’ (Our blessed Adolf).

The Western Allies started out well. In the summer of 1945, for ex¬
ample, they sacked 90 per cent of legal officials in their zones, but they
soon realised that by doing so they were greatly adding to their own work¬
load, and that they would have problems rebuilding the German legal
system. Many of the German lawyers were able to receive testimonials from

466

THE LITTLE FISH

colleagues attesting to their ‘inner’ rejection of the system. Once these had
been approved, a Persilschein was issued: named after the soap powder, it
‘washed white’ the former Nazi. Similarly, prison officials who had been
responsible for myriad murders and who had carried out a policy of un¬
rivalled brutality were absolved for the simple reason that the prison service
was short staffed. In the new state of Baden-Wiirttemberg the proportion
retained was an astonishing 96 per cent. 51

Once washed clean, the jurists returned to the bench or ministry. About
80 per cent of Nazi jurists went back to work in the Federal Republic,
including seventy-two former judges and prosecutors from the notorious
People’s Court. Some of these continued to serve as late as the 1970s. The
German courts proved incapable of sentencing any former Nazi judge or
prosecutor. Their excuse was that they were applying the law as it existed
at the time. 52 In the East the situation was different. After the initial
teething problems, when a lot of very dodgy men were elevated to the
bench, of 1,000 GDR judges in 1950, only one had been a member of the
NSDAP. To deal with the shortage of skilled jurists, judges were given
crash-courses. These judges however, would not have been impartial. The
prison service was similarly purged, but again this hardly made the prisons
of the GDR preferable to those administered by ex-Nazis in the West. 53

The Americans pulled the plug on denazification on 8 May 1948. By
then US, British and French courts had tried over 8,000 cases and sen¬
tenced a tenth of the accused - 806 — to death. Fewer than half of those
were commuted, and 486 went to the gallows. The Americans tried 1,672
people for war crimes. Of the 255 they executed at Landsberg-am-Lech,
102 were skilled workers, thirty-seven civil servants, with a few academic
titles here and there, twenty-three were academics, twenty-two workers,
eleven soldiers, and the rest were made up of the professions, Nazi func¬
tionaries and schoolboys. The oldest was Dr Schilling at seventy-four.
(Twenty more died from naural causes.) All the lifers were eventually
released, with one exception - Hess. 54 German courts reopened in the
summer of 1945, and they too passed judgment on former Nazis. Between
1945 and 1950 the courts sentenced only 5,228 defendants for Nazi crimes.
Sentences were either short or the criminals were swiftly pardoned. In the
years from 1951 to 1955 there were only 638 convictions. It is now clear
that many of the worst culprits, the operatives who sent thousands to their
deaths, were not punished at all. 55

467

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PART IV

The Road to Freedom

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Peacemaking in Potsdam

18 July 1945

Now it will be decided whether we can carry on living in Europe or
if we must try to live our lives as a refugee God knows where. A year
has elapsed since the [assassination] attempt of 20 July. A year filled
with blood and misery which might perhaps have been avoided. But
our people had to drink the cup down to the dregs, and in the end,
it was all for the good.

Ursula von Kardoff, Berliner Aufzeichnungen, lg^z—ig^s,

Munich 1994, 337

T he wartime conferences had calmly discussed the Germans’ fate, but at
the Potsdam Conference the Allies finally realised that ‘Uncle Joe’ had
stolen a march on them. He would call the shots. The Allies met from 17
July to 2 August 1945 at the palace of Crown Prince ‘Little Willi’, the
Cecilienhof in Potsdam. The Western Allies were able to see their handi¬
work for the first time. In a fifteen-minute raid on 14 April they had
flattened the centre of Frederick the Great’s Residenz . 1 The town centre
had lost ‘everything that was historic, a memorial or artistically important’,
according to Hanna Grisebach. 2 There were consolations: ‘The voices that
we have had to listen to for over twelve years have been silenced.’ 3

Hanna Grisebach was a Jewish convert to Protestantism married to a
Heidelberg colleague of Karl Jaspers. For many of the same reasons as the
philosopher, her husband was forced into retirement in 1937. The couple
moved to the so-called ‘von-Viertel’, the aristocratic quarter, of Potsdam.
Frau Grisebach was taken into the circle of the largely royalist nobles like
the Wedels, Schulenburgs, Buddenbrocks and an old Princess Trubetzkoy
who lived in Potsdam, many of whom subscribed to the ‘confessing
Church’ and were wholly opposed to Hitler’s regime. Like Gertrud Jaspers,
Hanna Grisebach spent the last few days of the Third Reich in hiding. 4
On 24 April Hanna noted ‘the first Russian in our house’. Their Polish

47i

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

maid Marja was able to interpret and shoo the Russian away, saving the life
of her young son. Her teenage daughter she now dressed as a boy, cutting
off her long plaits to save her from being raped. By now the Germans had
retreated, leaving a sorry spectacle of destruction: ‘battered vehicles, shat¬
tered cars, discarded pieces of uniform and weapons of every kind lie
scattered around . . ,’ 5

The Russians showed more respect for Potsdam’s cultural monuments
than the Anglo-Americans. During the battle for Potsdam the business of
safeguarding the palaces in the park of Sanssouci was given to Yevgeny
Ludshuveit, an art historian. He sent a radio message to German High
Command to ask them to cease shelling the park: ‘I was very worried
about the treasures, and wanted them to be preserved.’ 6 The Glienecke
Bridge, which connected Potsdam with Greater Berlin to the north, was
another victim of the bombardment. You might still cross to the Wannsee
side, but only by means of a ‘hair-raising climb’ over the pylons that had
previously held up the suspension bridge. In their destructive rage the SS
had set fire to all the fine boats belonging to the Imperial Yacht Club
moored on the Havel. 7

The care taken over the remaining monuments was not extended to the
private property of Potsdam’s townsfolk. There was the usual hunt for
watches and bicycles. The Grisebachs lost eight watches, as well as all their
bicycles. Hanna’s son managed to buy another of the latter with a gold
watch, but that was also later stolen. Surviving meant helping yourself to
what you could. Hanna Grisebach brought back part of a horse and mar¬
inated it in vinegar and spices. The dish brought forth whoops of joy. She
also received her share of a cow that had trodden on a mine. Possibly the
greatest discovery of all was the contents of the cellar of a villa which the
owner had thrown into the waters of the Hasengraben, in order to prevent
the Russians from drinking it. Hanna’s daughter, together with a friend,
had located the booty and they were prepared to wade out to their hips
to bring up the precious bottles: ‘top wines from famous sites’. The
Grisebachs drank them with relish, while the one who had donated them
lay in bed with a cold. The wine put the food to shame. Anything they
didn’t want, such as a bottle of Malaga, could be traded with the Russians
for bread and bacon. s

On 5 May Hanna heard a rumour that the Americans were coming to
Potsdam. Stories of this sort were rife at the time — there was no connec¬
tion with the Potsdam Conference in July. The first Russian wave was
moving on. A baggage train set off, creating a ‘picturesque scene’ reminis¬
cent of Tolstoy’s The Cossacks or similar episodes from War and Peace. Boys

472

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

spent their time shooting ducks and riding horses around, while abandoned
boats bobbed on the water. The Americans didn’t come, however, and
from mid-May there was very little food. Supplies of meat and fat dried up
and the Grisebachs lived on potato flakes and whatever fruit and vegetables
they could scrump from abandoned gardens. Added to this they caught fish
in the Havel or the lake, sometimes picking up a few after the Russians had
tossed a grenade into the water — their usual form of angling.

In their hunger they were pleased to hear that professors were equated
with manual workers in the handing out of ration cards: they were eligible
for the card I. When a field full of potatoes was located twenty kilometres
away in Buckow, Hanna and others set off on replacement bicycles they
had unearthed. They had to dodge Russian fire to get at the tubers, as the
soldiers wanted to distil them. Still, despite several setbacks, Hanna was able
to get away with thirty-five kilos. 9

First Contacts between East and West

One pretext for the Allied conference was to enforce the zones decreed at
Yalta. The Allies had all ended up in the wrong places: the French had
been in Stuttgart; the Americans were in Thuringia and had advanced to
Halle in Saxony; the British had occupied the western half of
Mecklenburg, while other American units had crossed the Harz Mountains
to reach Magdeburg on the Elbe. This so-called Magdeburg Pocket was
due to the Soviets. The Allied zones remained fluid until just before
Potsdam, and there was a good deal of idle speculation about who would
fall to whom. Even at the beginning of September it was still not clear to
Berliners who was where. It was said that the Russians were to evacuate
Eisenach and Jena and that the British had control of the airport in Erfurt
(all three were in the Russian Zone). The British were to receive
Thuringia, they heard, and the Russians would be compensated in East
Asia. The Western Allies were forced to retreat to positions previously
agreed by the politicians at Yalta behind the Elbe and the Harz. The gen¬
erals grumbled. In their enthusiasm to take back their rightflil territory, the
Russians also attempted to grab Coburg in Franconia, probably because
they thought the town was in Thuringia. This led to a stand-off with the
Americans.

On ii July 1945, Margret Boveri reported a fresh wave of arrests con¬
nected with the conference. The neighbouring communes were being
cleared of Germans to make room for the delegates. Babelsberg was already

473

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

purged, now it was the turn of Wannsee. Intellectuals were the main tar¬
gets, Pgs or non-Pgs. Pace Hanna Grisebach, there were disadvantages to
their academic status.

The conference proved a chance to survey the behaviour in the Allied
camps. There was bad blood on both sides. The Soviets still believed that
they had done the lion’s share of the fighting and borne the brunt of the
losses. The East did not trust the West, and vice versa. The Russians
believed that the Western Allies were merely taking a breather before they
attacked the Soviet Union and that they had kept their options open
throughout the war by conducting secret negotiations with the Germans.
That channels were open is undoubtedly true, and the Soviet authorities
had been informed of the fact by the British intelligence officer Kim
Philby and others. The Russians said they were not allowed to interview all
the prisoners held by the West. But they were allowed to talk to a number
of them and ‘the records of the interrogations confirmed that there had
been some backstage negotiations between the Nazis and the US and
British Intelligence about the possibility of a separate peace.’ 10 The Russians
had also held talks with the Germans. 11

There were advocates for war against the Soviet Union in both the
British and American camps, but how far up they went was concealed
during the Cold War. The Hitler Book, prepared for Stalin from interroga¬
tions with high-ranking German POWs in 1948, abounds with accusations
of Western Allied perfidy. 12 Some British generals, notably Montgomery,
were anxious to push on against the Russians. This had been supported by
Churchill, but the plans would have been leaked to the Russians by Donald
Maclean of the British Foreign Office, adding to the feeling of distrust that
existed among the Big Three. In 1945 the Russians believed the British
were holding back a substantial German army for use in the next campaign
and for that reason had omitted to disarm German forces in their zone. At
Potsdam Zhukov made a formal protest, claiming the British were keeping
the 200,000-man Army Group North in readiness and that a million men
in Schleswig-Holstein* had not been given POW status. 13 The Americans
were rounding up scientists and taking them back to the United States to
use in — among other things — their atom-bomb programme. 14 That the
Russians were hardly averse to this themselves does not figure in Zhukov’s
memoirs. The Russians believed that the Anglo-Americans had inten¬
tionally failed to bomb targets that would be of use to them later. One
example of this was the headquarters of IG Farben in Frankfurt, which was

* See above p. 70.

474

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

virtually intact — so much so, in fact, that the Americans took it over as
their own HQ. 15

Truman had no desire to continue the war against the Soviet Union and
agreed to fall back to the lines agreed by the Big Three at Yalta. Churchill
now expressed ‘profound misgivings’ in a cable to the president. 16 These
pieces of territory might have been used for bargaining, for example, on
the Oder and Neisse rivers. There was a little warm-up for Potsdam in
Berlin on 5 June when Montgomery and William Strang from Britain,
Eisenhower, Clay and Robert Murphy from the United States, and the
French commander de Lattre de Tassigny were invited to settle the gov¬
ernment of the city at Zhukov’s HQ in Karlshorst. The Anglo-American
generals were then invested with the Order of Victory, while de Lattre de
Tassigny had to make do with the Order of Suvorov First Class. 17 Clay gave
Zhukov the Legion of Merit. lS

The inferior decoration handed out to de Lattre was emblematic of the
status of the fourth ally: France was not invited to Potsdam.* It was ‘a bitter
blow to French pride’. 19 Truman had given the French assurances that their
wishes would be noted and their arguments put forward, but they had not
endeared themselves to the Americans through their behaviour: they had
occupied Stuttgart and the Italian Val d’Aosta and they had indulged in
colonial rivalry with the British in the Levant. The French had forgotten
nothing, and learned nothing. In 1919 they had taken 50 per cent of
Germany’s reparations; now they demanded machines, coal and labour, as
well as the restitution of all that the Germans had taken from them. The
French were desperately angling for the Ruhr with its natural resources and
heavy industry, but the incoming foreign secretary Bevin and the British in
general did not want to give an inch, fearing that the Russians would also
claim their pound of flesh. 20

At the Berlin meeting Germany formally ceased to exist as an independ¬
ent nation. The Allies signed the Declaration of Defeat and Assumption of
Sovereignty. The four powers also agreed the form of the Allied Control
Council that was to rule Germany, but the Russians made it clear that the
Western Allies would not be allowed to take up their sectors in the capital
until they had complied with Yalta: they had to fall back behind the River
Elbe and the Harz Mountains. Western politicians wanted this decision to be
taken by the Control Council, but Eisenhower (who was impressed by
Zhukov) was in favour of giving in to the Russians, and Truman’s emissary

* Eisenhower’s secretary — and mistress — Kay Summersby says the medals were handed to
the Western Allies in Frankfurt, when Zhukov returned their visit.

475

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

Harry Hopkins had discussed this quid pro quo in Moscow. 21 Zhukov believed
that the Western Allies were prepared to accept this loss of territory because
they were still anxious for the Russians to play a military role in the war in
the Far East. 23 Ursula von Kardorff already had a fair idea of the future
Russian Zone on 11 June - Weimar, Leipzig, Dresden — and doubted Stalin's
credentials as a ‘benefactor of mankind’. The zones were ratified on 26
July. 23

Zhukov also had a meeting with Hopkins the next day, 12 June.
Hopkins had flown in from two weeks in Moscow, where he had had six
meetings with Stalin to discuss the UN Charter among other things and
the chance of fitting in a few non-communists in the government of the
Lublin Poles. Otherwise his task had been to reassure the Russian leader
that the United States had no foreign political ambitions in Europe, thereby
leaving him a free hand in Poland and Austria. Hopkins had not consulted
Churchill, whom Truman was holding at arm’s length, while he refused to
speed up the scheduled talks. Members of Truman’s entourage, however,
took a completely different view, arguing for a showdown with Russia.
These included Harriman, Forrestal and Leahy. 24

Stalin and Molotov backed four or five of Hopkins’s Poles, who later
had to flee for their lives. On the way out Hopkins’s aircraft had flown over
Berlin. Seeing the ruins he remarked, ‘It’s another Carthage.’ 25 He was
sympathetic towards the Russians, and regretted the former president’s
sudden death. He had no close relationship with Truman: ‘It is a pity
President Roosevelt didn’t live to see these days. It was easier with him.’ 26
Hopkins told Zhukov that the Americans would not be ready for 15 June
and that they would need to postpone the leaders’ conference for another
month, until 15 July. Zhukov proposed Potsdam because there was no
suitable building in Berlin in a good enough state of repair. The only
place in Potsdam was the crown prince’s palace, but there was the advan¬
tage of Babelsberg, a largely undamaged area of villas that had been
inhabited by film-folk and politicians in Weimar times. 27

The themes on the agenda were the political and economic future of
Germany, denazification, demilitarisation and decentralisation, Germany’s
eastern border, the status of Konigsberg and East Prussia. Austria was also
on the agenda, as well as all the other former belligerent powers. Zhukov
took Hopkins and his assistant Charles ‘Chip’ Bohlen on a tour of the
ruined city and afterwards there was a buffet lunch that was ‘light on food,
heavy on vodka’. 28

Hopkins had been present at Yalta, and knew his old master’s mind. He
had been sent to deal with de Gaulle, which he clearly found an onerous

476

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

duty. When Roosevelts interpreter at the conference, Chip Bohlen, had
said, ‘We can all admit that de Gaulle is one of the biggest sons of bitches
who ever straddled a pot,’ 29 the late president had laughed. Roosevelt was
insistent that de Gaulle should not receive a place at the top table. Churchill
had to present the French case and obtain an occupation zone in Germany.
Stalin only agreed as long as it took nothing away from his portion. What
is striking is how little fight the Western Allies put up against the Russian
leader even at Yalta. Hopkins had advised Roosevelt to accept Stalin’s
huge reparations demands, 30 and when America and Britain gave way on
Poland’s western borders, it is not clear they knew exactly what was
involved.

Churchill had tried to settle the Polish issue before the Red Army
arrived, but Russia’s might had won the day. He had had a change of heart.
On 15 December 1944 he had been quite open about the complete expul¬
sion of Germans from the eastern territories, but he was worried about
numbers. It appeared that he thought six million was the upper limit, and
now he learned that the figure would be eight or nine, which was com¬
pletely impossible to effect. 31 Churchill clung to his Wismar pocket as a
bargaining counter, and on 9 June 1945 he cabled Truman to advise him to
do the same and hold on to American positions in Thuringia and Saxony.
He might have hoped for a better rapport with Truman, as his relations
with Roosevelt had been strained at the end of the late president’s life. He
told Truman not to consider withdrawing until the Austrian question had
been properly settled. On 14 June Truman cabled Stalin, however, and
agreed to move his troops back to the Elbe. Churchill had no alternative
now but to comply with his ally’s decision. He now informed Stalin that
the British would be gone by the 15th. Stalin then played for more time.
He requested that the Allies wait until 1 July before taking up their lines in
Berlin. There were mines to be cleared, and other chores to be effected
first. 32

They should have known what they were in for by now — Stalin had
already shown his hand in eastern Europe. Czechoslovakia was a case in
point. The government in exile had taken leave of King George VI on 15
February and left England on 12 March. On 19 March Benes and Masaryk
were in Moscow. On 6 April they arrived in Prague to be welcomed with
bread and salt. On 9 April an interim government was set up under
Zdenek Fierhnger with representatives of the four parties and four non-
party members. The highest goal was co-operation with Moscow.

The Poles had been obliged to accept the Curzon Line in the east, but
on 21 July 1944 Stalin was able to placate the Lublin government by

477

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

dangling compensation in front of their eyes, in the form of German ter¬
ritory in the west. Churchill and Roosevelt had raised no objection to the
Oder—Neisse Line at Yalta, although there had been misgivings about
giving the Poles such a large amount of German territory and it was left
that land would be found for them in the west and north. The Poles were
well aware of what they wanted from the Potsdam conference. The Lublin
regime had formally stated that they wanted the Oder—Neisse on 5
February 1945. As Wladislaw Gomulka put it, ‘we must expel all the
Germans because countries are built on national lines and not on multi¬
national ones’. 33

The issue was scheduled for review at Potsdam. The reason why the
Russians had stood by and watched the Warsaw Uprising from the other
side of the Vistula was that they wanted those elements out of the way that
were not in favour of a communist or pro-Moscow Poland. The Western
Allies continued to support the regime in exile in London. The sixteen
London government emissaries who went to Moscow to enquire about
possible collaboration were arrested. Meanwhile the Lublin men trotted
along behind the Red Army. In March 1945 they created five new Polish
woiwode : Masuria, Pomerania, Upper Silesia, Lower Silesia and Danzig.
They were already referring to the areas as the ‘Recovered Territories’. The
move resulted in protests from Washington: there had to be peace talks
first! 34

In their policy of demontage and cultural pillage, the Russians showed
no desire to co-operate with the West. Some of the Soviet generals, such
as Bulganin, thought like Montgomery — they had won a battle, not the
war. Fascism had to be defeated, particularly in America. ‘America is now
the arch-enemy!’ said Bulganin on the eve of the storming of Berlin. ‘We
have destroyed the foundations of fascism, now we must destroy the foun¬
dations of capitalism — America.’ In cultural terms this was expressed by the
Russian officer Vladimir Yurasov prior to the Western Allies’ arrival in
Berlin: ‘Take everything out of the Western Sector of Berlin. Do you
understand? All of it! What you can’t take, destroy. Only leave nothing for
the [Western] Allies: no machine, not even a single bed; not even a cham¬
ber pot!’ 35 Berlin and its industrial satellites were being stripped bare: the
hardware of companies such as Osram and Siemens, of the telephone
exchanges, of the S-Bahn and so on, right down to their typewriters, was
being loaded up and shipped back to Russia.

The Russian leader was also wary of American and British attempts to
promote capitalism. The American minister responsible for Germany was
John McCloy, who was a banker in normal life. He had some sympathy for

478

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

the defeated Germans in that his wife had been born in Germany. In
opposition to the Morgenthau view (which was essentially behind demon¬
tage) McCloy encouraged the rebuilding of Germany Morgenthau had not
abandoned his famous plan. In 1945 he published Germany is our Problem.
Truman had been opposed to the plan even as a senator, so he was happy
to listen to McCloy. Another opponent of Morgenthau was the secretary
of war Henry Stimson, who thought the secretary for the Treasury ‘biased
in his Semitic grievances’. The day before his departure for Potsdam,
Truman accepted Morgenthau’s resignation, commenting, ‘That was the
end of the conversation and the end of the Morgenthau Plan.’ On the
other hand the plan was still present in the minds of many of the soldiers,
and their desire to lay waste to Germany had been sharpened by what they
had seen in the concentration camps. 36

In their recorded statements the Russians showed themselves more sym¬
pathetic to the conquered Germans. Anastas Mikoyan, then vice-president
of the Council of People’s Commissars, expressed the view in an interview
with Prawda, which found its way into 77 te Times: ‘We have crushed Hitler’s
armies in fierce combat and taken Berlin, but our moral sense and our trad¬
itions do not allow us to ignore the suffering and privations of the German
civilian population.’ It was a far cry from the realities of life under Soviet
dominion. Germans also clung to the comforting line of Stalin’s — ‘Hitlers
come and go, but the German people remain.’ 37

It was also becoming clear how little the Anglo-Americans could trust
Stalin. The Russians had occupied the Danish island of Bornholm, which,
they said, lay to the east of the line of their own sphere of influence. The
truce in Hungary was signed without any participation of the Western
Allies, and at the time of Potsdam the west had yet to be allowed into
Vienna. Just how much Stalin was lying at Potsdam is clear from an
exchange between Clay and Zhukov on 7 July, just ten days before the
meeting of the Big Three. Zhukov informed the American general that
Silesia had already been turned over to the Poles; ‘the Germans had moved
out of the area in such huge numbers that there is little agriculture remain¬
ing for this area’. The Russians did not even have access to the coal, said
Zhukov. They had to pay for it like everyone else. The British and the
Americans were having to supply the Germans with 20,000 tons of food
every month. The loss of Silesia was therefore highly significant. The
United States had already protested about the handing over of Silesia to the
Poles. 38

At the Cecilienhof — the palace of the Prussian crown prince and the
venue for the Potsdam Conference - the Russians planted a great red star

479

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

of geraniums, pink roses and hortensias in the flower bed at the entrance. 39
Inside the house there were frantic preparations for the arrival of the Big
Three. 40 The different quarters were to be colour-coded: blue for the
Americans, white for the Russians and pink for the British. The confer¬
ence table had been specially made in the Lux Factory in Moscow. 41 The
Russians and the Americans were already observing one another from
either side of the Glienecke Bridge, as they were to do until the end of the
Cold War.

In Potsdam itself Hanna Grisebach and her family were made aware of
the coming of the Big Three by increased security around the Neue
Garten and the Cecilienhof. They were lucky enough to be on the far side
of the Heiligensee. All the streets leading directly to the palace had to be
evacuated. GPU carried out a wave of arrests and a sentry was posted in
their garden. There were one or two advantages: the Russians quickly laid
out a new street and a bridge was thrown across the Havel to Babelsberg
where the leaders were staying. A pontoon bridge was also put up to allow
access to Sacrow and the airport at Gatow. Russian soldiers rode bareback
and naked into the waters of the lakes, reminding Hanna of centaurs, but
she was less pleased to find herself under house arrest from 16 July, living
in a state of impotent rage while she observed the Red Army guard knock¬
ing twenty-five kilos of unripe apricots off their tree in the garden. Any
attempt to go out was greeted by cries of‘Dvai-Dvai! Zuhrick nah Haus!’
(Quick, quick! Back in the house!). When an aircraft flew low over their
street she hoped it was the British and American leaders going home. 42

Stalin arrived by train on 16 July. He wanted no special arrangements,
no regimental bands. He told Zhukov to meet him, and to bring along
anyone he thought necessary. Zhukov sat beside him in the car and they
drove to a luxurious villa. Stalin wanted to know who had lived there. He
was told it had belonged to General Ludendorff. 43 The British and
Americans arrived the same day. Truman and Churchill were in frequent
contact in the run-up to the conference. Churchill had wanted King
George VI to attend, and also to review the British forces in Berlin, but
that idea was dropped in June. 44 The British had had a general election on
5 July, but because British servicemen were scattered throughout the world,
the results would not be in for three weeks. Churchill informed Truman
that, whatever the results of the election, the conference should not be hur¬
ried. 45

Truman came via Amsterdam. He was very much an innocent abroad
and relied on his secretary of state, James Byrnes. He had no strong feelings
of his own. He had inherited from Roosevelt the idea that America and

480

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

the Soviet Union could happily coexist. Kennan, for one, thought this an
illusion. 46 Truman and Byrnes flew in separate aircraft, Byrnes himself
piloting the plane between Cassel and Magdeburg. Truman looked at both
cities from the window. He could see not one single undamaged building.
He landed on the ‘British’ airfield at Gatow, which was conveniently close
to Potsdam. They drove to their quarters in Neubabelsberg. British and
American soldiers lined the route until they reached the Soviet Zone.

The Americans had already decided they wanted to undermine com¬
munism in Germany. To that end they desired to see the creation of some
centralised agencies that might squeeze out Soviet influence. It was one of
the first rumbles that presaged the Cold War. Neither Truman nor Byrnes
thought Germany was a danger any more: it had been destroyed, and the
atom bomb was there should it ever seek to menace world security again.
Byrnes was also firmly in agreement with the British in wanting to keep
the Ruhr free from the Russians. Besides, the cession of the Ruhr would
upset the struggling German economy and make the occupation even
more expensive for the Anglo-Americans.

Truman was lodged in a three-storey villa at 2 Kaiserstrasse on the
Gribnitzsee, which had been the home of ‘the head of the movie colony’
who had been sent ‘back’ to Russia — ‘for what purpose I do not know’,
Truman wrote to his mother and sister. It was evidence of a certain naivety
as far as Russia was concerned, and did not augur well. The house had
been newly painted, and received the ironic title of the ‘Little White
House’, ‘although it was painted yellow’. 47 Churchill had a house of the
same size, two blocks away at 23 Ringstrasse. Truman went to bed early to
prepare himself for what was likely to be a tough day on the 17th. He met
Churchill in person for the first time the next morning, but felt he was no
stranger. 48

Churchill was accompanied by his daughter Mary, Sir Anthony Eden,
the head of the Foreign Office Sir Alexander Cadogan and his naval adju¬
tant, Commodore C. R. Thompson. Truman told Churchill he wanted to
suggest an agenda, and asked him if he had brought one himself. ‘No,’ he
said. ‘I don’t need one.’ 49 In fact both the British and the Americans had
decided to toughen their stance over the Oder—Neisse, to the degree that
they were prepared to go back on what they had indicated they would
accept at Yalta. Stalin had made it clear at Yalta that he meant the Western,
not the Eastern Neisse.* Now the diplomats arriving in Potsdam were to

* In German they are called the Lausitzer or Gorlitzer Neisse and the Glatzer Neisse. The
Glatzer Neisse joins the Oder at Schurgast in Upper Silesia, the Polish Skorogoszcz. In Polish
the river is called the Klodzka.

481

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

play innocent and carried instructions not to permit an extension of Poland
to the Western Neisse. The Americans also wanted to prevent the sub¬
traction of most of Pomerania. Poland was to receive the southern half of
East Prussia, Danzig, Upper Silesia and part of Pomerania, but that part
would be far east of Stettin. 50

The Americans were ready to dig their heels in, though the British were
more concessionary, as they had been at Yalta. The sticking point was the
Eastern Neisse. The British wanted the border drawn there, which would
leave a substantial part of Lower Silesia in German hands, together with three
million Germans. The negotiations would hinge on reparations: the Russians
would not receive a brass farthing from the Western zones of Germany if
they insisted on advancing the Polish border to the Western Neisse. What the
Western Allies had not reckoned with was the obduracy of Stalin. He was
not prepared to budge on this issue, and their opposition simply caved in. 51

Truman allowed himself a little excursion to the capital. He saw the
remains of the Reich Chancellery, ‘where Hitler had conducted his rule of
terror’. He looked at the mess and was thankful that his own country had
been spared such ‘unimaginable destruction’. ‘That’s what happens . . .
when one overreaches oneself,’ he added sententiously. 52 The news of the
statesman’s Berlin walkabout reached the ears of Ruth Friedrich: ‘They are
having a very discreet meeting in Potsdam, no noise penetrates the
kilometre-thick cordon. As a result it is exciting to learn that the foreign
heads of government have visited the inner city and the Tiergarten district
and seen over the ruined buildings of Hitler’s Reich Chancellery and the
air-raid cellar.’ 53 She would not have been so impressed had she known
how profoundly Truman had understood the plight of the German people.
On the second day of the conference the American leader characterised the
Soviets as the sort of people who stole rare old grandfather clocks and dam¬
aged them in the process. 54

Stalin visited Truman in the Little White House shortly after his arrival
in Potsdam. He came with Molotov and Pavlov the interpreter and insisted
on being called ‘generalissimo’ and not ‘marshal’, in tribute to his great vic¬
tories in the field. 55 Truman wanted him to stay for lunch. Stalin tried to
fight him off, but he stayed in the end. Truman congratulated himself, and
felt that he could do some good for the world as a result of this small
domestic triumph.

The conference began at 5.10 p.m. on the 17th. Stalin proposed that
Truman should preside, and Churchill seconded him. Truman’s first move
was to propose a quarterly conference of foreign ministers as a means of
avoiding the pitfalls that had followed the First World War. This had been

482

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

foreseen at Yalta in February. The Allied Control Council was to start work
at once. Truman made his demands: he wanted complete disarmament for
Germany, and Allied control of all industry that might be used to produce
arms. ‘The German people should be made to feel that they had suffered
a total military defeat and that they could not escape responsibility for what
they had brought upon themselves.’ The Nazi Party was to be destroyed, its
officials removed from office. The country was to be reconstructed on
democratic lines prior to its eventual peaceful participation in international
life. Nazi laws were to be rescinded and there were to be trials for war
crimes. On the other hand the seeds were to be sown for reconstruction:
Germany was to be seen as one economic unit. 56

Now it was Stalin’s turn. As far as Germany was concerned he wanted
his share of the German merchant fleet and navy, and reparations and
trusteeships due to him under the UN Charter. He made demands relat¬
ing to other countries before finishing with Poland’s western borders and
the liquidation of the London-based government in exile. Churchill was
not happy about giving Stalin the German fleet. He told the dictator that
‘weapons of war are terrible things and that the captured vessels should be
sunk’. The wily Georgian had an answer to that: ‘Let us divide it . . . If Mr
Churchill wishes he can sink his share.’ 57 That concluded the first day.

There was music playing all over Potsdam that July, or so it seemed.
Hanna Grisebach was a violinist and played Mozart with a local doctor and
a Frau von Kameke. The Russians came to the house of the latter and
loudly applauded. This led to one of her strangest engagements: to play
before the NKVD. She was very pleased to oblige, as it meant a hot meal.
Her elderly husband, however, remained at home in profound anxiety. It
was only when he heard the valedictory word ‘Dosvidania’ on the doorstep
that he calmed down. 58 On 18 July Ursula von Kardorff noted that the Big
Three were sitting in Potsdam ‘like the Norns’ in Wagner’s
Gotterdammerung who spin the golden rope of world knowledge that binds
past, present and future. In the opera the rope snaps. 59

The second day continued the discussions about the Conference of
Foreign Ministers before the Big Three came to the subject of defining
Germany. Churchill was vague. He said Germany was what it had been
before the war. Stalin countered by asking whether Austria and the
Sudetenland were part of Germany. For him Germany was ‘what she has
become after the war. Austria is not part of Germany.’ Truman proposed
the 1937 frontiers, before Germany began to expand. Stalin would accept
that, ‘minus what she lost in 1945’. Truman was evidently perplexed:
‘Germany lost all in 1945.’ 60

483

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

Stalin was impatient to broach the Polish issue. He had obviously made
promises to the Lublin Poles. The Western Allies were content to leave this
issue for the proposed peace conference. Truman did not think they had
adequately defined Germany Stalin’s answer was evasive. Germany had no
government, no definable borders, no frontier guards and no troops. The
country was divided up into four zones of occupation. Truman insisted on
the 1937 borders and Churchill agreed . 61

Stalin returned to the ownership of the German fleet on the 19th. He
made it crystal clear that he saw war material as plain, old-fashioned booty.
Indeed, his view throughout — and indeed that of the Red Army — was the
traditional one — the victor has the right to live off the conquered, take his
chattels, eat his food and help himself to his women; and it is for the con¬
queror to decide whether he should preserve the life of the vanquished.
Stalin had his grievances. On this day it was Franco and the Blue Division
which had fought in the USSR; on another it was the Italians who had
done the same. When there was mention of the Yugoslavs, who were
embarrassing the West by demanding large-scale repatriations of their citi¬
zens from Austria, Stalin said he would not discuss the matter, as the
Yugoslavs were not present. Eden reminded him that they had discussed
the matter at Yalta, and the Yugoslavs had not been there either. 62

Truman assured the Soviet leader that he would carry out the Yalta
Agreement to the letter. He was getting bored, and perhaps just a little
worried about what he had let himself in for.* He threatened to leave.
Stalin laughed and rejoined that he would like to go home too. Truman
gave a state banquet in the Little White House. The young American
pianist Eugene List, a sergeant in the US army, played Chopin’s Opus 42.
Appropriately for a man who had belatedly set himself up as the patron of
the Poles, Stalin was a Chopin fan. He was impressed and drank a toast to
the pianist. Stalin liked the wine and asked where it came from. It was
Californian. Truman also played the ‘Missouri Waltz’ for his guests. Only
Churchill failed to see the charm of it all: ‘he did not care much for that
kind of music.’ 63

The following day Truman inspected American troops in Berlin. The
session that afternoon raised the question of Vienna. Churchill complained
that his soldiers had not been allowed to take possession of their sector.
Stalin said the zones were now settled, and he could bring his army in now.
The Polish issue had been handed over to the foreign ministers to solve.

* The part of the Yalta Agreement would result in the deaths of thousands of Russians and
Yugoslavs.

484

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

They reported back on the next day, the 21st. The Lublin Polish leader
Boleslaw Bierut had told Byrnes that the Poles would still be at a disad¬
vantage despite the huge amounts of German territory they were to
swallow. Poland would still be smaller than it was before the war, because
it had lost 180,000 square kilometres to the Russians. On the other hand he
conceded darkly that it would be a more homogeneous state.* Yalta had
decided that it was for the peace conference to give Poland its shape, but
that the Allies would consider the Poles favourably. Truman continued to
insist on the 1937 German borders, but he was beginning to realise that
Stalin had presented him with a fait accompli. ‘It now appeared ... as if
another occupying government was being assigned a zone in Germany.
This was being done without consultation . . ,’ ( ' 4

Stalin reiterated the position as seen at Yalta — the eastern borders would
follow the Curzon Line. That meant he would hang on to what he had
gained from his deal with Ribbentrop in 1939. ‘It had been decided at Yalta
that Poland should receive cession of territory in the north and west.’
Truman agreed, ‘but insisted that it was not correct to assign a zone of
occupation to the Poles’. Stalin then uttered two monstrous lies: ‘What had
happened . . . was that the German population in these areas had followed
the German Army to the west, and the Poles had remained.’ The Germans
were not only still there, but, with the exception of some parts of Upper
Silesia, there were no native Poles.I Stalin went on to say that ‘he was
unable to see what harm had been done by the establishment of a Polish
administration where only Poles remained’. 65 He then added, ‘The west¬
ern frontier question was open, and the Soviet Union was not bound [by
Yalta].’ ‘You are not?’ Truman asked. ‘No,’ said Stalin. According to
Truman Churchill had a good deal to say but gathered that it was not the
time to say it. Truman reiterated that it was a matter for the peace confer¬
ence. 66 In the meantime the brutal torture and expulsion of the civilian
populations of the region continued unabated. Even if the peace confer¬
ence had been held in Paris in the summer of 1946, by then there would
have been only a small minority of them left.

Stalin mentioned East Prussia, adding that ‘it would be very difficult to
restore a German administration’ there. In his view, ‘an army fights in war
and cares only for its efforts to win the war. To enable an army to win and

* The population east of the Bug was mixed, and the Poles were not intending to permit
any Germans to remain east of the Oder—Neisse. This way the problem of racial minorities
was solved.

f Any areas where there had been substantial minorities of Poles were awarded to Poland at
Versailles.

485

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

advance, it must have a quiet rear. It fights well if the rear is quiet and better
if the rear is friendly . . .’ This was the prologue to the revelation that the
East Prussian Germans had all packed their bags and left as well - an act of
great consideration towards the advancing Russians, as they had realised
that the Red Army would want to know they had a quiet rear. ‘Even if the
Germans had not fled ... it would have been very difficult to set up a
German administration in this area because the majority of the population
was Polish . . .’ Truman and Churchill were fobbed off with more lies.
Stalin ‘insisted there was no other way out’. 67

The matter was then placed in hock for the peace conference. Churchill
continued to worry about British interests. He didn’t want to have to foot
the bill for feeding the Germans. The regions the Russians had de facto
ceded to Poland represented a quarter of Germany’s arable land. Truman
expressed either terrible weakness or the hopelessness of the Western Allies
when he said he ‘did not think there was great disagreement on Polish
frontiers’. This was probably yet another attempt to delay the decision, but
until a time when Stalin’s contention that there were no Germans had
become reality. When he repeated that ‘there was no German population’
because they had ‘all fled westward’ and so ‘there the [area] falls to Poland’,
Truman countered that ‘nine million Germans seemed like a lot to me’.
Churchill enquired, ‘who is to feed them?’ He was reluctant to take on this
role without having the means at his disposal. It was a repeat of his con¬
cerns over provisions for the British Sector in Vienna. 68 The needle had
stuck in Stalin’s gramophone: the population had disappeared before the
Red Army arrived — ‘he emphasized that no single German remained in
the territory to be given to Poland’. 69 *

It was at that moment that the president’s aide Admiral Leahy whispered
his famous inteijection: ‘Of course not . . . The Bolshies have killed all of
them.’ In his memoirs Truman took a tough stance: ‘Of course I knew that
Stalin was misinterpreting the facts. The Soviets had taken the Polish ter¬
ritory east of the Curzon Line, and they were trying to compensate Poland
at the expense of the other three occupying powers. I would not stand for
it, nor would Churchill. I was of the opinion that the Russians had killed
the German population or had chased them into our zones.’ 70 Churchill
later claimed that had he returned to Potsdam he would have prevented the

* At the beginning of June there were 800,000 Germans left in East Prussia and 65 per cent
of the Germans were still in Silesia. Half the Germans in Pomerania had moved out, but
only 30 per cent of those in Brandenburg. In the Sudetenland only 3 per cent had left so far.
(Gerhard Ziemer, Deutsche Exodus: Vertreibung und Eingliederung von 15 Millionen Ostdeutsche,
Stuttgart 1973, 87-8).

486

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

Soviets from making off with so much of Silesia, but his contention was
never put to the test. 71 It was a pity he did nothing at the time, beyond
repeating that it was a matter for the peace conference. No monitors were
despatched east, no enquiries were made among the incoming treks or
among the miserable trainloads of refugees that discharged their cargoes in
the Western zones. They did not want to know.

Churchill was concerned for the beleaguered British economy. Silesia’s
coalmines had been awarded to Poland, so that coal was not available for
Germans. The West would have to foot the bill again. He was concerned
that Germany needed to be built up again to avoid becoming a burden on
the West. Reparations therefore had to take second place. 72 Stalin came up
with his most ingenious argument to date at this point: ‘the less industry
there was in Germany, the greater would be the market for American and
British goods’. Churchill reiterated, We do not wish to be confronted by
a mass of starving people.’ Stalin replied, ‘There will be none,’ and added,
‘Are we through?’ 73 That night Stalin gave his banquet. For occasions of
this sort there was no shortage of provisions. On the contrary, it was quite
a thing, with vodka and caviar at the beginning and melon and champagne
at the end. There were at least twenty-five toasts. Truman took care to eat
little and drink less. Stalin was not to be outdone by Eugene List, and had
two great pianists and violinists perform. Truman was interested in what
Stalin was drinking in his tiny glass. He presumed it was vodka, but the
Russian leader was employing the same ruse as his marshal Koniev. Stalin
finally told him with a smile that it was French wine — since a recent heart
attack he could not drink as much. 74

The next day, 22 July, was a Sunday. Truman studied the Yalta
Declaration to see what it said about Poland’s western borders. The Big
Three had accepted the Curzon Line then, but had left the western border
open. They had not expected problems on this issue. Truman concluded
that there was no case for the Poles receiving a zone. He did not really
object, but he didn’t like the manner in which it had been done. Stalin
thought that the Western Allies should listen to the Poles on this subject.
Meanwhile the Soviet leader was romping home. He pointed out that the
leaders at Yalta (Churchill was still at the conference at this point) had not
meant the Eastern Neisse, but the Western Neisse. There were indeed two
rivers of that name in Silesia, as we have seen — one which ran into the
Oder below Breslau and one that joined it below Guben. This meant that
the line demarcating Poland’s western borders would run to the left of the
town of Stettin, and more than a hundred kilometres to the left of Breslau,
and would encompass all that part of German Lower Silesia that ran

487

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

between the two rivers. To make it clear to the Western leaders, Stalin rose
and showed them the area on a map. 75

This cunning confusion over the two Neisse rivers added greatly to the
Polish cull. Not only were the Poles to be richly rewarded with their half
of East Prussia, Danzig, all of Hinter Pomerania and a large chunk of
Brandenburg east of the Oder and the so-called ‘border area’, they were
now to receive such stock German towns as Brieg, Bunzlau, Frankenstein,
Glatz, Glogau, Goldberg, Griinberg, Hirschberg, Landeshut, Liegnitz,
Ohlau, Sagan, Waldenburg and Warmbrunn, containing altogether some
2.8 million Germans. 76 In all they would be awarded 21 per cent of
Germany’s pre-1937 territory, while the Russians made off with 3,500
square miles of East Prussia. All in all Germany would lose a quarter of its
extent, and a large part of the arable land that had fed it in the past. In
return the Poles were meant to shut up about Poland east of the Bug, and
accept their place in Stalin’s world.

Truman and Churchill were giving way at every point. Stalin talked of
Konigsberg as a conquest next. This was booty - not in keeping with
Churchill’s and Roosevelt’s high-minded utterances in Newfoundland in
1941 - but Byrnes thought Churchill understood Stalin’s desire to grab a
colony or two. The status of the city had been discussed at Teheran. The
Soviet Union ‘should have an ice-free port at the expense of Germany’.
Stalin added that the Russians had suffered so much at the hands of
Germany that they were anxious to have some piece of German territory
as some small satisfaction to tens of millions of Soviet citizens. Besides,
Roosevelt and Churchill had already agreed. Churchill made a weak
attempt to backtrack. He said it would be difficult to admit that East
Prussia did not exist and that Konigsberg would not come under the
authority of the Allied Control Council. Once more, the region’s ultimate
status would be left for the peace conference that was never to be. 77

The conference then heard a report from Field Marshal Alexander
about the British Sector of Vienna. The area contained 500,000 people, but
the British had no means of feeding them, their zone being hundreds of
miles to the south and west of the city. Stalin promised to look into the
matter with Renner. On the 24 July he generously agreed to feed the
British charges for the time being.

The conference returned to the thorny matter of the Polish border on
the 25th. Churchill and Eden had met the Polish delegates, headed by
Bierut, the previous day. Bierut was a Soviet pawn who simply lied to and
stonewalled the British leader, but all the same he provided a rather more
generous estimate of the number of Germans remaining beyond the Oder.

488

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

He believed there were a million and half of them. At the next session
Churchill said that the question of the transfer of populations from
Germany, Czechoslovakia and Poland should be discussed: ‘This area was
part of the Russian Zone and the Poles are driving the Germans out. He
felt this ought not to be done without consideration being given to the
question of food supply, reparation and other matters which had not yet
been decided’. In his reply, Stalin came close to being frank. The Poles, he
said, ‘were taking their revenge upon the Germans . . . for the injuries the
Germans had caused them in the course of the centuries’. Churchill
expressed a material consideration once more - that revenge took the
form of throwing the Germans into the American and British Zones to be
fed. 78

Truman reminded Stalin that the Poles were his responsibility too, and
that he was also at the mercy of the Senate; and that they might easily
refuse to ratify any proposed treaty. Stalin brought up another bargaining
counter, one that was not in his hands: the Ruhr. This was in the British
Zone, and the British were having a hard time keeping the French out.
Churchill announced that he was leaving for Britain. ‘What a pity!’ said
Stalin. ‘I hope to be back,’ replied the British premier. Stalin suggested that,
judging from his rival’s face, ‘he did not think Mr Attlee was looking for¬
ward to taking over Churchill’s authority’, apparently adding, ‘He does not
look like a greedy man.’ The British left Alexander Cadogan to mind the
fort. 79

There was no meeting on 26 July, as the British were absent. Truman
flew to Frankfurt-am-Main to visit Eisenhower. On the way to Schloss
Berckheim, General Bolling’s palatial headquarters in Weinheim, he drove
through unscathed villages, and saw healthy-looking Germans. Eisenhower
was based in the big IG Farben building in Frankfurt, which reminded
Truman of the Pentagon. The British delegation had still not returned on
27 July and Truman relaxed with Eugene List’s piano-playing. He wrote to
his mother and sister of this ‘Godforsaken country’. ‘To think that millions
of Russians, Poles, English and Americans were slaughtered all for the
folly of one crazy egotist by the name of Hitler. I hope it won’t happen
again.’ 80 The day before he had met a Lieutenant Hitler, who came from
the solidly German town of St Louis.

Churchill had very much expected to be back, but Attlee won by a
landslide and became prime minister on the 26th. On the 27th he unex¬
pectedly named the former docker Ernest Bevin as foreign secretary. Bevin
himself thought he was destined for the Treasury, and that Hugh Dalton
would get the Foreign Office. Attlee had even told Dalton as much when

489

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

he saw him that morning. The Foreign Office, however, was not happy
with Dalton, possibly fearing that the Old Etonian economist would be
‘too soft’ on the Russians. The permanent under-secretary, Cadogan,
thought Bevin ‘the heavyweight of the cabinet’. A further deciding factor
was the king’s antipathy towards Dalton. He too preferred Bevin. 81

Bevin had no problem thinking himself into the role of chief diplomat.
As he told his private secretary Nicholas Henderson, he knew all about
‘foreigners’. He had had plenty of experience of ships’ captains. ‘Oh yes, I
can handle them,’ he said. As it was, he was devoted to the old guard at the
Foreign Office and the Foreign Office liked him too, because he did not
prevent them from shaping government policy. Bevin was strongly anti-
Soviet and had become fed up with Churchill’s softness towards them. He
thought the Conservatives had thrown too many ‘baubles at the Soviets’.
On 28 July, badly overweight and heavily dependent on drink and cigar¬
ettes, Bevin went to Brize Norton to take his first flight. 82

Truman was introduced to Ernest Bevin. Both he and Byrnes were
rather shocked by his aggressiveness towards the Soviets. When he got to
his digs, Bevin told General Sir Hastings Ismay that he was ‘not going to
have Britain barged about’. 83 His passion for the British Empire would not
have been popular with the Americans or the Russians. Britain, however,
had far less might than the other two. Economically it was on its back: six
years of war had cost a quarter of the country’s pre-war wealth; its income
was reduced by half; exports were just a third of what they had been, and
its merchant fleet was down by 30 per cent. It had also lost 40 per cent of
its markets — chiefly to the Americans. Together with these problems, the
colonies were crawling with nationalists who were looked on with sym¬
pathy by the other two powers round the Russian table in Potsdam. 84
Despite the limited affections of the Americans, Britain had only one way
to turn. The Americans were avowed enemies of colonialism and the ster¬
ling bloc, which they saw as a threat to the open world economy. 85

Naturally Stalin knew Attlee well. The later arrival of the British meant
that the conference did not kick off until 10.15 p.m. on the 28th. Bevin
was seeing the Russian leader for the first time. He decided he was like a
‘renaissance despot’ — it was always yes or no, ‘though you could only
count on him if it was no’. Bevin immediately protested about the
Oder—Neisse Line. 86 For the time being, however, the conference contin¬
ued to discuss booty. Stalin agreed that he would not seek reparations
from Austria (he was insisting on payments from Italy). He would find
another way of making off with the booty he desired — by sequestering
‘German’ assets. Truman was growing impatient with the reparations issue.

490

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

He realised all too well that when these countries were bankrupted by
reparations they would need bailing out by the United States. It was after
midnight when the meeting broke up. 87

The 29th was the second Sunday of the conference. Truman attended a
church service in Babelsberg. Stalin had caught a cold and had stayed in
bed, thereby postponing the end. Truman thought he was faking the ill¬
ness, and that he was merely disappointed that Churchill had been replaced
by Attlee. Molotov took his place at the table. Zhukov remarked that
Attlee was rather more reserved than Churchill, but that he continued
Churchill’s line of argument. 88 Truman’s original suppositions about Stalin
had been revised — he had never met such stubborn characters before and
hoped he would never do so again. 89

The American secretary of state James Byrnes read out a statement
offering a definition of Poland’s western borders that would prevail until
the matter could be decided by the peace conference. The area was to be
administered by the Poles ‘until Poland’s final western border was fixed’ by
the peace conference. 90 Byrnes drew a line starting at Swinemiinde, west
of Stettin, and proceeding down the Oder to the Neisse before following
the Eastern Neisse to the Czech frontier. The Poles would also administer
Danzig and the lower half of East Prussia. It would not be considered a part
of the Soviet Zone. 91

Molotov immediately objected: he wanted the border fixed at the
Gorlitzer or Western Neisse. Truman thought he ‘requested a very large
concession on our part’. That was a considerable understatement. Truman
was already annoyed by the Russian—Polish fait accompli. The Russians had
warned their clients in Poland and Czechoslovakia to put a temporary
stop to their expulsions, at least until such time as the Allies could find
places for them within the shrunken Germany The miserable German
population in Silesia were hoping vainly for justice from Potsdam. The
Polish authorities had now declared them to be ‘outside the law, without
possessions or honour’. 92 The final decision was pure whitewash.* Molotov
returned to the Ruhr. It was the bit of western Germany the Russians
wanted and had failed to occupy. Now he demanded two milliard dollars

* Polish—East German agreement was not made until 1951 when an accord was signed in a
villa in Frankfurt-an-der-Oder. The place later became the House of German—Soviet
Friendship and a plaque was set up to mark the spot. It was one of the few restaurants in
Frankfurt when the author ate there on 17 August 1991, the day of the Moscow Coup.
Bewildered Soviet soldiers wandered around the garrison. Soljankasuppe seemed appropri¬
ate: it was the one culinary contribution made by the Russians in the long years of
occupation.

491

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

or its equivalent — five to six million tons of machinery. Russian reparations
had already been fixed at Yalta. They were to receive a quarter of the
equipment in the Ruhr. There were other little points of that nature to
clear up. The naval issue was settled by a three-part division. 93

Stalin continued indisposed. Truman wrote to his mother and sister. He
was not convinced that Stalin was ill. Perhaps the generalissimo genuinely
missed Churchill, for it was certain that Attlee would make just as many
concessions, if not more. Stalin did not please the American leader: ‘You
never saw a more pig-headed people as the Russians. I hope I never have
to hold another conference with them.’ 94

The end drew near. The eleventh and penultimate meeting took place
on the 3 ist. The Ruhr was British, and Bevin fixed the Russian share at io
to 15 per cent. That meant 15 per cent in commodities or 10 in repar¬
ations. Bevin also held out for the Eastern Neisse, but Byrnes was ready to
concede and grant the Russians the plum they longed for. Truman added
forlornly that it was only a temporary measure. Bevin was still insisting on
the 1937 borders and hoping for a deal of some sort before he would con¬
cede. The Americans pulled the carpet out from under his feet. He wanted
to know if the British could also give away parts of their zone to other
countries.* Truman added in what was no doubt a resigned tone: ‘we all
agreed on the Polish question’. Stalin said, ‘Stettin is in Polish territory.’
Bevin added, ‘Yes, we should inform the French.’ And they decided to tell
the French. The French had wanted it thus all along. 95

The Anglo-Americans had lain prostrate while the Russians had walked
all over them. Truman thought the Polish compromise was ‘the best we
were able to get’. 96 It begs a number of questions: had Stalin placed the
border at Berlin and the Spree, would the Allies have consented? Berlin had
a Slavic history too, as indeed did Magdeburg. Why not fix Poland’s border
at the Elbe? For the Germans on the right bank of the Oder, however,
Potsdam gave an ambiguous verdict, leaving the Oder—Neisse issue open
until 1974 and later. The final decision was to be left until a peace treaty
was agreed. This never happened. The Oder—Neisse Line therefore became
a temporary frontier until a permanent one was fixed at a later conference.
In the meantime the Poles resumed their expulsions from the areas allotted
to them by the Soviets. The cities of Breslau and Stettin felt this decision
acutely. The Anglo-Americans had not intended to leave them in Poland,
either permanently or temporarily. They had planned to divide Breslau,

* The Anglo-Americans had taken the decision to award part of their zones to the French.
The Soviets were indifferent.

492

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

leaving the bulk of the city in German hands, and the right-bank suburbs
were to go to Poland. At Yalta Churchill had said, ‘It would be a great pity
to stuff the Polish goose so full of German food that it died of indiges¬
tion.’ 97 Zhukov claimed that the Oder—Neisse Line had been settled at
Yalta, and that Churchill was backtracking. 98 Without Churchill’s at best
limp resistance, Truman agreed to the Oder—Neisse Line including the
Eastern Neisse and Breslau. 99

At the next meeting Stalin was after booty again. He wanted a line
drawn from the Baltic to the Adriatic, and the opportunity to appropriate
any German property to the east of that marker. They discussed war crim¬
inals: the Russians wanted the Krupps indicted. Krupps had made possibly
the greatest demands on the Nazi government for Russian slave labour and
raw materials. The Russians complained that Rudolf Hess was living com¬
fortably in England. Bevin replied that the British would send the Allies a
bill for his upkeep. 100 Attlee thought the Russians had Goebbels. Stalin was
evasive. He wanted to have a list of war criminals who might be in the
Soviet Union, but the Americans opposed this. Stalin asked for just three
names, at which Attlee suggested Hitler: ‘Stalin replied that we do not have
Hitler at our disposition but that he had no objection to naming him.’ 101

Stalin reverted to the western Polish border at the last meeting, which
began at 10.40 p.m. on 1 August. Molotov had amended the line on the
map. Stalin said that he wanted it fixed immediately west of Swinemiinde,
but that the precise location would be decided by the Poles and Russians.
Bevin objected. ‘No,’ he said, ‘the British could not cut themselves out of
this . . . The line must be recognised by the United Nations.’ The delegates
continued to bicker about Swinemiinde and how many other German vil¬
lages to the west of the coastal town would fall to Poland. The session
broke up at 3 a.m. 102

The Potsdam Conference laid down the guidelines for the transfer of
populations. An estimated 3.5 million Germans were to be brought out of
the new Poland and settled in the British and Soviet Zones in an orderly
and humane manner as enshrined in Article 13. A schedule was drawn up
which foresaw the entire number crossing the frontier before August
1946. 103

The Big Three agreed to create a number of ‘central agencies’ that
would be law in all four zones. The French smelled a rat: central agencies
smacked of the ‘Reich’. ‘There is thus a German state,’ complained de
Gaulle; that was ‘inadmissible’. 104 It was not only the French who were
unhappy. Potsdam ended in recrimination. The path to the Cold War was
open. From now on decisions would be taken at the regular meetings of

493

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

the Allied foreign ministers. The Russians had the dropping of the US
atom bombs on Japan to concentrate their minds. On 22 August Truman
put an end to Lease—Lend while de Gaulle was on a visit to America.
Franco-American relations were marked by mutual incomprehension.
France, which had signed a treaty with Soviet Russia in December, was
playing the communist card. It was easily done with the Communist Party
the largest in the French Assembly. 105

The Western Allies were shocked that they had made so many conces¬
sions to the Soviets. They had managed the conference badly. Soviet power
was at its height, while the British were at the nadir of their fortunes. The
death of Roosevelt in April had meant that the only delegation to have
maintained the same dramatis personae at Teheran, Yalta and Potsdam had
been the Soviets, and they had known how to invoke past agreements. 106
Although Truman had accepted Morgenthau’s resignation, it was only at
Potsdam that the politician’s thinking really became a dead letter. 107 One of
the most influential critics of Potsdam was the diplomat George Kennan,
who was stationed in Moscow and knew the Soviet leaders well. Fie viewed
the whole conference with ‘unmitigated scepticism and despair’. ‘I cannot
recall any political document the reading of which filled me with a greater
sense of depression than the communique to which President Truman set
his name at the conclusion of these confused and unreal discussions.’
Quadripartite control was, thought Kennan, ‘Unreal and unworkable’. 108

Fie believed that the agreement was wrong, point by point. War crimes
needed to be settled by immediate execution, and there was no common
ground to be found with the Soviets. ‘In all fairness’ the granting of
Konigsberg to the Soviet Union had been agreed by Churchill and
Roosevelt, ‘but the casualness and frivolity with which these decisions
were made . . . the apparent indifference on the American side’ appalled
Kennan. Fie also showed how Truman and Byrnes had been hoodwinked.
The Russians required an ice-free port, and felt they deserved one after the
sacrifices made by the Soviet people. Kennan pointed out that they already
had three — Ventspils, Libau (Liepaja) and Baltisky — and Konigsberg was
forty-nine kilometres from the sea. The result was a disaster ‘without par¬
allel’ in modern times.

Not only were the East Prussian population subjected to the most
ghastly fate imaginable (and in many cases it was unimaginable), but — as
Kennan pointed out - it resulted in the most terrible squandering of the
resources of a rich agricultural province. Gone were 1.4 million head of
cattle, 1.85 million pigs, four million tons of wheat, fifteen million tons of
rye and 40 million tons of potatoes in a yearly average. 109

494

PEACEMAKING IN POTSDAM

Some Germans, however, were relieved to hear the outcome of the
Potsdam Conference. For Ruth Friedrich it was as if a ‘stone had fallen
from our hearts: so there is not to be a fresh war but they were going to
rebuild and rule together’. The order was enshrined in Control Council
Proclamation No. i of 5 June, which informed the German people that the
four powers would jointly govern Germany. 110

For the Potsdamer life returned to what they now called normality.
Hanna Grisebach was free to scrump again, stealing potatoes from the
crown prince’s garden. She was caught red handed by a Russian: ‘Zapp-
zarapp kartoscha!’ Her daughter pacified the soldier with a little
school-book Russian. He dismissed them: ‘Na Haus!’ 111 The shadows
lengthened and the cold set in. By February it was fifteen degrees below,
and there was no glass in their windows. They slept in their coats and
animal skins. The shortage of potatoes had been joined by a dearth of coal
and wood. It was Karl Jaspers who finally helped them out by recalling
August Grisebach to his chair in the newly reopened university. His wife
and children had to remain behind in Potsdam until repeated visits to
OMGUS, the American HQ in Berlin-Dahlem, yielded the necessary
papers.

495

The Great Freeze

Whenever I think of the winter of 1946 to 1947 in Germany, I always
recall the glitter on the walls and in the interiors of houses, that I must
have seen a hundred times in German homes and which resembled
the sparkly sheen on the unpolished side of a granite block. It was the
glitter of a wafer-thin layer of white frost, an icy blast of damp; the
frozen moisture in the atmosphere created by men, sweat, coughing
and breathing; men whose clothing was sometimes soaked though
with snow, and who dried out slowly when they got home.

Carl Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht fur das Kriegsministerium der
Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika, Gottingen 2004, 82

A fter Potsdam the stage was set for the Cold War, but it did not come
for a while. One reason for this was that Stalin did not want a war, hot
or cold; and it was the Western Allies, first Britain, and then America, who
pushed him into it. He had no desire to reach the North Sea, the Rhine or
the Atlantic. The Soviet Union was exhausted by war. If Stalin had con¬
sidered resuming the march west, he knew that his country needed a good
twenty years to recover first. When goaded to invade western Europe by
one of his generals, he answered, ‘But who would feed all its people?’ 1
Similarly, he tried to restrain Tito’s wilder ambitions — although this did not
come out at the time — when he appeared to back his territorial claims.
Stalin’s system was about security, and his almost paranoiac sense that the
Soviet Union was in danger. Poland was the lynchpin: he wanted a good,
deep buffer. In Germany he saw something more akin to an ally. He
sought to avoid division, although he allowed certain policies — such as
agrarian reform — which could only have been intolerable to the West. The
Cold War was the result of what Vojtech Mastny has called the ‘Western
perception of a Soviet threat’. 2 Stalin kept his options open.

There was friction at Potsdam, but the Allies went home in the belief
that they were policing the globe together. They had instituted a regular

496

THE GREAT FREEZE

conference of foreign ministers (CFM) to keep the world in check. The
merry-go-round had taken the foreign ministers to London in September
1945. It was their first meeting since Postsdam. There was a predictable
scrimmage over who was to receive what in the way of German resources.
The French were still clamouring loudly for the Rhine and the Ruhr and
‘justice’, by which they meant coal, machinery, locomotives, consumer
goods and men. They were pre-empted by the Soviets, who had awarded
themselves 50 per cent of reparations, with 20 per cent each to Britain and
America. France and the other claimants had to make do with 10. Bevin
was still firm on the Ruhr. He was generally sympathetic to the French,
but in this instance he realised that any internationalisation of the area
would be tantamount to opening the door to the Russians. 3

French behaviour upset Molotov and led to a chilling of relations
between the two countries. On 7 October 1945 Pravda ran an article
saying that the French had less right to discuss eastern Europe than the
Yugoslavs, Czechs or Poles. Moscow complained that the French were not
prepared to deport Russian POWs, by which it almost certainly meant
those Russian citizens who were hiding under French skirts because France
had not been party to Yalta. The Russians responded by saying they would
not return French POWs, which meant Alsatians who had been recruited
into the German army after 1940. 4 They would have to spend another
winter in the Gulag.

The winter of 1945—6 was not abnormally cold, but the terrible lack of
coal and food was felt acutely by the very large numbers of Germans with¬
out proper roofs over their heads. The ground was rock hard and the lakes
froze. The Konnnandatura authorised a Holzaktion in the Grunewald
woods, allowing Berliners to cut down the venerable trees of the former
royal hunting reserve. That winter 167 people committed suicide from
despair, and the British authorities in Berlin decided to evacuate children
aged between four and fourteen to their zone. This involved 50,000 chil¬
dren and 10,000 accompanying adults. Despite this precaution, 60,000
Berliners are believed to have died before March 1946. The following
winter killed off an estimated 12,000 more when temperatures hovered
around thirty degrees below. 5

As noted in the previous chapter, the meetings between the Big Three
had foreseen a peace conference, similar to that which met in Versailles in
1919, putting the final coat of varnish on the post-war settlement. There
were endless discussions about this, and about just who was to be allowed
a seat at the table. Byrnes was still courting Stalin. He sat next to him at
dinner in Moscow at the CFM in December 1945 and raised a toast:

497

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

‘Whom we hath [he] joined together, let no peace put asunder.’ By his own
admission it went down like a lead brick. The brief American—Soviet rap¬
prochement struck fear into Bevin, but on 9 February 1946 Stalin appeared
to open the batting in the Cold War with his speech hailing the victory of
the Soviet people. The war, he said, had been the result of monopoly cap¬
italism. 6 It was very probably true, however, that the Soviet leader had not
meant to frighten the Western Allies. Both he and Molotov were still
keen on East—West co-operation. So, to some extent, was Byrnes; but his
attempts to maintain the peace between East and West were undermined
by Truman, who pronounced himself‘tired of babying the Soviets’. He
would go so far, and no further. 7

Churchill made his speech in Fulton, Missouri on 5 March in which he
was supposed to have coined the phrase ‘Iron Curtain’. The words had, in
fact, been first used by Joseph Goebbels. s Churchill’s views were loudly
cheered by the Foreign Office, though they were very cautiously received
in America at first, which was moving only slowly in that direction. 9 The
idea persisted in some quarters that Soviet Russia and America could carve
up the world. The notion had found favour with Roosevelt. It often had
to do with a profound Anglophobia on the part of senior American army
officers. 10 Now voices of dissent began to ring out.

The Soviets had no desire to see Germany break up — they had their
eyes on the Ruhr with its industries, and on their 10 per cent share of
German production. After the Berlin election of May 1946 that went by
the board. The Russians were proceeding with their idea of setting up
‘democratic’ government in their zone. The political resolve of the Western
Allies in Berlin had first been put to the test in March that year when the
Soviets called for the merging of the SPD and the KPD. In April the social¬
ists and communists of the SBZ held a conference in the Admiralspalast
Theatre where the call for the new ‘Socialist Unity Party’ or SED was
unanimous. Elections by secret ballot were held in the West but were
banned in the Russian Sector. The Soviet ban was challenged in both
Prenzlauerberg and Friedrichshain, but Russian troops broke up the polling
station and carried off the ballot boxes. In the Western sectors the vote was
a disaster for the Russian plans to introduce a one-party state: 29,610
Social Democrats voted against, with just 2,937 agreeing to the merger. It
had been ‘the first free and secret election on German soil since 1932’. 11
Russia’s policy had blown up in its face, especially when free elections were
allowed.

498

THE GREAT FREEZE

The New Ideologists

The East—West co-operation that had won the war was going out of intel¬
lectual fashion. A different set of men were wielding influence in the
Western corridors of power. George E Kennan had served in the Moscow
embassy during the war. For him the Soviet Union posed a threat to the
American way of life. 12 He believed the Americans were deceiving them¬
selves if they thought they could change events in the areas already under
Soviet hegemony; on the other hand he could see no reason for making
things easier for them. Germany was not going to work — a shared
Germany was a ‘chimera’. In the summer of 1945 Kennan wrote his
famous ‘long telegram’: ‘We have no choice but to lead our section of
Germany — the section of which we and the British have accepted respon¬
sibility - to a form of independence so prosperous, so secure, that the East
cannot threaten it.’ Better a dismembered Germany than totalitarianism at
the North Sea. 13 Kennan’s memorandum was echoed by three similar
telegrams from the British diplomat Frank Roberts, although he expressed
himself with more caution.

In retrospect Kennan probably went too far. It is highly unlikely that
Stalin wanted to cross the Elbe. It did not make a lot of sense to strive for
a communist Europe while the Americans and the British retained large
forces on the mainland. If that had been what he desired, it was better to
wait: the fruit might fall from the tree without any need to struggle.
Besides, America had the atomic bomb, and was to possess a monopoly in
nuclear weapons until 1949. 14 The Soviets were still keen to reform their
zone. The Soviet diplomat A. A. Sobelev told Murphy that the pan-
German central government laid down by Potsdam would need years of
preparation, as the spirit of Prussia had to be excised from the administra¬
tion first. 15 The changes of attitude were in the West, where the Americans
feared an attack on the open economy and the British an attack on their
interests in the Middle East and the Mediterranean. 16 Kennan was not
deceived by the Czechs. By 1945 the country was already under the sway
of Moscow. ‘Personal acquaintance with the Czech ambassador in Moscow,
Zdenek Fierlinger, had given me the impression that we had to do in his
person not with the representative of a free and independent
Czechoslovakia but with one who was to all intents and purposes a Soviet
agent.’ 17

Views like Kennan’s were becoming common currency in America.
General George Patton was a case in point: with time he preferred Nazis

499

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

to communists. A more analytical indictment of the policy that led to the
Anglo-American rout at Potsdam appeared in Ralph Keeling’s Gruesome
Harvest of 1947. Keeling called it ‘one of the most brutal and terrifying
peace programmes ever inflicted on a defeated nation’. Germany was not
a pawn in the battle between East and West, thought Keeling, ‘she is the
major prize’. Germany needed to be attracted over to the American side
and kept there. 18 This was to become American policy before the year was
out. Keeling echoed many of Victor Gollancz’s views on the treatment of
the Germans, but he was rare at the time in being prepared to bring up
Allied wartime atrocities, such as the bombing of civilian targets and the
firestorms where men, women and children were fried at temperatures of
1,000 degrees. The Oder—Neisse Line contradicted the Atlantic Charter,
and — Keeling pointed out — even the draconian Morgenthau had limited
his territorial demands for the Poles to the southern half of East Prussia and
the mixed Germano-Polish area of Upper Silesia. 19

In Britain, Roberts’s views prevailed in the Foreign Office, which was
calling for an all-out offensive against Russia’s mission of ‘dynamic and
proselytising communism’. What Roberts feared was ‘communism on the
Rhine’. The British attitude was so aggressively anti-Soviet in Bevins
Foreign Office that some observers have suggested that the British were
the prime movers in the Cold War. 20 There were still delusions of
grandeur in Whitehall and Bevin was certainly all in favour of the hard
line. He thought it might be necessary to abandon the idea of a united
Germany but insisted that responsibility for the breakdown in relations
between the wartime Allies should rest fairly and squarely with the Soviets.
Though the Russians appeared peaceful in Europe, they were already
moving troops into Iran, the move that was to prompt Churchill’s Iron
Curtain speech. 21 The Americans were the last to abandon their faith in a
united Germany, but Byrnes was defeated in Paris, the location both of the
farcical peace conference and of the Quai d’Orsay, which was most
famously opposed to German unity. Byrnes could not believe a peace con¬
ference had any value now that so many countries had been absorbed into
the Soviet bloc. 22

Bevin was also worried about money, especially as Britain did not have
much. Reputations die hard, but Britain’s subaltern position was recognised
by the permanent under-secretary, Cadogan, who referred to the leaders of
the Allied coalition as ‘the great two and a half’. In 1945 the economist
Maynard Keynes was talking of a ‘financial Dunkirk’, and as the fuel crisis
set in during the cruel winter of 1946—7 Britain’s economic handicap was
patently obvious. 23 In 1945—6 alone, Germany cost the British taxpayer

500

THE GREAT FREEZE

-£74 million, while the British people had to put up with a continuation of
wartime rationing.

Although Truman had recognised the Oder—Neisse Line on 9 August
1945, the Americans were ready to backtrack almost immediately. For the
time being, however, the Control Council defined Germany as the land
between the Line and the ‘present western borders’. The French had made
it clear as well that, although not party to Potsdam, they approved the ces¬
sions in the east. It was Byrnes who reopened the can of worms by raising
the question of border revision and threatening Poland with a peace con¬
ference. 24

That other Russo-sceptic, Clay, drew his inspiration from Byrnes. On
19 August he wrote to the secretary of state, ‘You are carrying so much of
the hope of the world on your shoulders against almost insurmountable
odds that you should be free of all other worries. If you cannot win the
fight for peace, no one can.’ 25 The Berlin elections were coming up. Clay
thought the Americans should support the democratic parties in the west —
the CDU and the SPD represented the ‘substantial majority of the popu¬
lation’. ‘I am not unduly apprehensive of the election results in Berlin,’ he
wrote, as he did not trust them anyway. Berlin depended on Russia, which
fed its people, and was subject therefore to Soviet economic pressure. 26
Indeed, there was a feeling that the Germans in the SBZ could not be
trusted and that they would turn to communism under the blandishments
of the occupiers. Even when there was plenty of evidence to the contrary —
as in the Austrian elections — the Anglo-Americans still persisted in their
view. The feeling that Germans in the east had been seduced by the Soviets
strengthened their resolve to create a separate state in the west of the coun¬
try. As early as May 1946 Bevin explained to the cabinet why he felt a
divided Germany was desirable. The Russians presented a danger as great
as, if not greater than, a revived Germany. The idea was to create a
Germany ‘that would be more amenable to our influence’, whereas a
united Germany would be more under Soviet hegemony. 27

Byrnes was also the architect of Bizonia — the idea of merging the
Western zones rapidly replaced Bevins notion of a ‘loose federation’. In
April 1946 the four powers met to discuss the situation in Germany, and
Russia was accused of reneging on the agreements made at Potsdam. The
result was an economic amalgamation of the British and American zones.
The conference affirmed the fact that the enemy had changed since the
onset of the Cold War: the Germans had become allies in the new order.
The British cabinet agreed in principle to Bizonia on 25 July 1946.
Germany should become self-sufficient again by 1949. 28

501

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

Byrnes made his statement of intent in Stuttgart on 6 September 1946. He
had been attending the impotent Paris Peace Conference and had left for
Berlin before flying on to the Wiirttemberg capital. He met the German
minister presidents and addressed an audience in the Opera House. The
German politicians told him a new Hitler was an impossibility: were such a
man to emerge, he would have to be a communist. Byrnes said it had been
a mistake for America to lose interest in Europe after the First World War.
‘The American people want to help the German people to win their way
back to an honourable peace among the free and peace-loving nations of the
world . . . What we want is lasting peace. We will oppose harsh and venge¬
ful measures which obstruct our attempts at peace. We will oppose soft
measures which invite the breaking of the peace . . . We do not want
Germany to become the satellite of any power or powers or to live under a
dictatorship, foreign or domestic.’ There were sideways swipes at the Poles for
seizing land before they had been granted leave. Polands borders, he warned,
were not final; there had been no agreement. The French were also put in
their place: America could not deny their right to the Saar, but it would not
support any encroachment on the Ruhr or the Rhineland. The criticism of
the French in Stuttgart, of all places, must have been especially piquant. 29

Byrnes’s hard stand was heartily approved by Clay. The British were also
enthusiastic. Churchill cabled his congratulations. After some initial reti¬
cence, Bevin appeared pleased and made similar noises before the House of
Commons in October. 30 Attlee was all for withdrawing from Germany, but
Bevin, the Foreign Office and the chiefs of staff ganged up on him, claim¬
ing that it would be tantamount to another Munich. They wanted
confrontation, not retreat. Above all Byrnes’s speech went down well with
the Germans. The Wiesbaden Kurier called it ‘a ray of light at last’. Then
again, in Wiesbaden, it was wise to praise anything the Americans did. 31
When Byrnes went, Clay continued the hard line. Washington interfered
very little with American military commanders in Germany. 32 Not so
enthralled by Byrnes’s words were the Poles, who staged a protest outside
the American embassy in Warsaw. 33

John Dos Passos had the chance to interview Clay in Berlin at the end
of 1945. Clay exerted his charm on the journalists, telling them ‘with a
smile that we weren’t necessarily trying to produce an efficient Germany,
we were trying to produce a democratic Germany’. He did not know if he
would succeed in this. Nor could he say whether the Germany they pro¬
duced would be separate or unified: ‘That decision couldn’t seem to get
past the [Control] Council.’ Clay was referring to the French, who
obstructed anything that exuded a whiff of unity. 34

502

THE GREAT FREEZE

The French were up to their usual tricks and not playing ball with the
Anglo-Americans. From the very beginning they sought to disable the
Control Council and resist the implementation of the Potsdam Agreements
as far as creating ‘central agencies’ was concerned. There was to be no
recreation of the ‘Reich’. Pierre Koenig wielded his veto like a bacon
sheer. On 20 October 1945 he put paid to the idea of a unified trades
union structure. The Americans were incensed. First Eisenhower threat¬
ened to scrap the Control Council, then the matter came within Clay’s
domain, and Clay was permanently furious with the French for their
obstructions. The latter still had their hearts set on the dismemberment of
Germany and looked approvingly to what had happened on the other
side of the Oder—Neisse Line. As Bidault put it: if you can do it with
Breslau, why not Mainz? 35

The South Tyrol

One issue that was festering in the autumn of 1946 was what to do with
the German-speaking South Tyrol. Flitler had been surprisingly pragmatic
about ethnic Germans. Where ‘Heim ins Reich’ (home in the Reich) pro¬
vided a pretext for annexation in most cases, for the German-speaking
majority in the South Tyrol and Gottschee it meant ‘come home to the
Reich’: Mussolini was to be allowed to continue Italianising this former
Austrian territory north of the River Adige or Etsch.*

In 1919 the region had been 95 per cent German, but self-determination
was nonetheless denied to its people. The Allies had promised the Italians
the Brenner to lure them over to their side in 1915. Some vague noises had
been made about autonomy, but once the Italian fascists came to power
they were keen to consolidate the region by evicting the natives and re¬
placing them with poor peasants from the south. Mussolini encouraged
new industries in Bolzano (Bozen) and Merano (Meran), and brought in
Sicilians to man them. The fanatical Ettore Tolomei from Trentino pursued
a policy of promoting Italian institutions and banning the German language
and place names. Many changed their family names to something more
Italianate in order to retain their farms. The experience of persecution had
been a bitter one for the South Tyroleans; and they had been only partly
mollified in 1943 when the Germans had taken over from the Italians and

* Cf. the Deutschlandslied: ‘Von der Etsch bis an der Memel’ — Germany ran from the
Adige to the Memel, on the Lithuanian border.

503

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

Mussolini’s drive had abated. The Soviet Union might well have con¬
sented to hand over the territory had it not been for Marshal Badoglio’s
coup against Mussolini that year. Now Italy was on the winning side again,
and would not be penalised in a post-war peace settlement. Similar senti¬
ments were expressed by Churchill’s foreign secretary Anthony Eden: there
was more to be gained by sparing Italy further humiliation. 36

From May 1945, the South Tyroleans naturally hoped that they would
be allowed the chance to join their cousins in the north, and become part
of an independent Austria. This was the aim of the SVP (South Tyrolean
People’s Party), founded on 8 May. Karl Gruber had been active in reclaim¬
ing the South Tyrol from the very moment the Allies arrived in Austria. He
felt that Austria had proved its victim status, and could now reap the
reward. In September 1945 there had been a demonstration on the streets
of Innsbruck, and Figl expressed the view that ‘The return of the South
Tyrol to Austria is every Austrian’s dream.’ 37

The Italian foreign minister Alcide De Gasperi was from Trent and was
more prepared to see Trieste fall to the Yugoslavs, however, than the South
Tyrol return to Austria. He tried to frighten the Anglo-Americans by
conjuring up a vision of a communist Austrian state on the Brenner. This
was calculated to have an effect on Truman. In general the Allies were split,
with the American Austrian expert James Riddleberger siding with
Austria, and the Italian authority Samuel Reber resisting. In Britain Lord
Hood and Arnold Toynbee were in favour of Austria, while A. D. M
Ross and the historian of the Habsburg Monarchy, A. J. P. Taylor, were
against. 38

Renner sent notes to the Allies on 6 and 16 September 1945 canvassing
their views on a return of the region to Austria. 39 In January 1946 the
Austrian government issued a note to the Allied Council with a request
that it be forwarded to the member governments. The note requested the
return of the province of Bolzano-Bozen — its agricultural production was
vital to the Austrian economy. The request had support from some unusual
circles. In the House of Lords Robert Vansittart spoke in favour of the ces¬
sion of the South Tyrol to Austria, and the foreign secretary Bevin lent it
a sympathetic ear. 40 The South Tyrol, however, was not what it had been
in 1919. As a result of Mussolini’s transfer of poor Italians from the south
and Hitler’s encouragement of the ‘Heim ins Reich’ programme to bring
German-speakers to Germany, the Italian minority amounted to nearly 40
per cent of the population, and their presence was particularly strong in the
bigger towns.

Gruber had assumed office as foreign minister with a desire to pursue a

504

THE GREAT FREEZE

‘dynamic foreign policy’ that was mostly thrust at the idea of getting the
South Tyrol back. 41 A petition was signed by 158,628 South Tyroleans and
handed to Figl in Innsbruck. On 1 May 1946 the Allies refused a South
Tyrolean request for a plebiscite. The question was deferred to a putative
Paris peace conference.

On 5 May 20,000 South Tyroleans gathered in the bailey of Schloss
Sigmundskron wearing placards that read, ‘Wir bitten die Siegennachte:
schenkt uns unsere Heimat!’ (We ask the victorious powers, give us our
home!). Gruber now suggested that the South Tyrol be administered by the
United Nations. When Austrian demands were rejected by the Italians, a
general strike was organised in Innsbruck, Salzburg and Vienna. Gruber was
invited to ‘air his views’ in Paris in August. By the end of the month his
demands had been modified: South Tyroleans were to enjoy political liberty;
the province of Bolzano was to have economic autonomy; there was to be
a special customs policy between Austria and the South Tyrol. 42 The Italians
agreed to a different statute for the region within the province of Trentino-
Alto Adige. Trentino had also been a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire,
but its population was almost entirely Italian-speaking. As it was, the Allies
made the decision to evacuate Italy at the Paris CFM on 24 June 1946. On
the question of the South Tyrol, the foreign ministers were content to ask
Italy for certain guarantees for the German-speaking population. They had
eventually resolved to maintain frontiers, where possible, as they had been
before the war. The French were more in favour: they had to put away a
dream of extending their Austrian zone to the Adige. The decision to
maintain the status quo was bitterly disappointing to the Austrians. Renner
scrapped a banquet that was to be offered in 1946 to commemorate the vic¬
tory over Germany. 43

The injustice of the South Tyrolean position finally led to a meeting
between the Austrian foreign minister and his Italian counterpart De
Gasperi in Paris on 5 September 1946. They met to consider a South
Tyrolean ‘Magna Charta’. 44 The accord guaranteed the rights of the
German-speakers. Once again they were to be entided to German schools,
and Germans might occupy a number of local-government positions. Place
names could be written in German again. Exchanges between the north
and the south of the Tyrol were encouraged with an automatic right for
qualified students to study at Innsbruck University. In 1948, however,
hopes of autonomy were dashed when the southern region was bound into
the new area of Trentino, where Italians had a two-thirds majority.

The Paris Conference proved a humiliating experience for De Gasperi,
but good news was on the horizon in the form of Trieste. The British had

505

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

managed to keep the Yugoslavs out, and the following year the port, with
its 80 per cent Italian population, reverted to Italy. ‘Co-belligerency’ with
the Allies had once again saved the Italians from the worst punishment.
Italy lost its African colonies, and had to cede Fiume and Istria to
Yugoslavia and the Dodecanese to Greece. A few Alpine villages were
transferred to France. 43

The Russians Come into the Cold

Russian attempts to show the Germans they were soft and cuddly did not
help when it came to Berlin’s first free elections for fourteen years. The
poll, which was held in October 1946, gave very different results to the
local elections which the Russians had been able to run by themselves. The
SED received a paltry 19.8 per cent, trailing behind the right-wing CDU,
with 22.2 per cent, and with less than half the votes of the SDP, based in
the Western sectors. For the SPD it was the best score they had achieved
since 1925; Berliners perceived the SED as the ‘Russian party’. 46 Some saw
the behaviour of the Red Army as being partly to blame. A majority of
female voters in Austria had certainly refused to support political parties
that appeared to emanate from the same place as their rapists. The bour¬
geois parties in the SBZ had also been able to exploit the women’s plight.
The Russian journalist K. Gofman took the matter up with the Bulgarian
ideologist Georgy Dimitrov in Moscow, condemning ‘this evil which car¬
ries such a huge cost for our local prestige in Germany’. 47

The news that the hated wartime coalition might be on the verge of
collapse was rapturously greeted in the courthouse prison in Nuremberg.
When Churchill began to criticise the Soviet Union, even Hess forgot
that he had lost his memory and told the other major Nazis that he had
always known it would be thus, that the trial would end, and that they
would be restored to their high-sounding titles and dignities. Goring too
slapped his thighs in glee and exclaimed, ‘History will not be deceived!
The Fiihrer and I always prophesied it! The coalition will break up sooner
or later.’ 48

The first calls from the Soviet Zone to create pan-German committees
in keeping with the Potsdam Agreement came as early as 1945. They were
issued by the LPD or Liberal Democrats. They suggested the creation of a
‘general plenipotentiary’ to act as a liaison man between the different
centres of power, or the formation of a ‘party control commission’. In 1946
the Liberal Democrats called for a German Zone Council, and the

506

THE GREAT FREEZE

following year a committee made up of all German parties. That same year
the CDU in the Soviet Zone demanded ‘national representation’. 49

The Russians were also changing their minds about their wartime part¬
ners. A New York Times reporter who interviewed a Soviet general in
Dresden, heard him say that the destruction was ‘your work and now it is
our work to clear it up’. 50 A new froideur had set in with the Allies since
the attempt by the Soviets to manipulate the elections. This was the begin¬
ning of the squeeze on West Berlin that was to culminate in the airlift and
the failed attempt by the Russians to overrun the Western sectors. Berlin
was to be ‘a Danzig without a corridor’. What was more, the Western
Allies were pathetically understaffed, particularly in Berlin, where the US
had no more than two battalions of troops to face the Red Army. 51 The
day after the poll the NKVD began rounding up over 400 scientists and
technicians in the Russian Sector and shipping them back to the USSR.
Three days later the British protested against a violation of human rights.
In a rare moment of candour Colonel Frank Howley admitted that the
Americans too had taken away German scientists. They were ‘hardly in a
strong position’ if they chose to protest. 52

The Great Freeze

The winter of 1946—7 was possibly the coldest in living memory. In
Cologne there were sixty four days in the 121 from December to March
when the temperature was below zero at 8.00 a.m. Near Frankfurt further
to the south, deep snow lay on the ground until March. 53 The puny
‘cannon oven’ was the only source of warmth for most. It was capable of
warming one side of the room, but its effect rarely extended to the other.
The cannon oven gave off an intense heat, but only for a short period, as
the rations of fuel were soon burned up. In the American Zone households
were limited to six briquettes, and sometimes there were none at all.

The cannon oven was a way of locating life in the ruins. A makeshift
chimney indicated a room under the rubble. The stench was appalling,
reminding Zuckmayer of a working coalmine. The inhabitants of these
smoky dens were happy for all that — at least they had some sort of roof
over their heads. They were lucky, too, if they were not obliged to share a
room with another family. Only in the relatively rubble-free western dis¬
tricts of Berlin where the Allies had requisitioned many of the houses
could one find fresh air and the scent of pine trees, but even that was spiked
with benzene. Fuel was short here, however, and living in an elegant villa

507

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

meant little if it could not be heated. The privileged inhabitants of
Zehlendorf or Dahlem froze with the rest. 54

Everything was burned that winter. Germans might have regretted that
they had been so quick to put their Nazi literature into the stove. A
rumour went round that there were to be public burnings of Nazi books,
but the truth was only that the Berlin public libraries threw out the now
ideologically suspect material in September 1945, and the others naturally
followed suit. Using Nazi paraphernalia as fuel had begun even before the
Fiihrer’s death. The anonymous Woman in Berlin was cooking on
National Socialist literature on 27 April 1945. Later she burned the
Movements sacred text to keep warm. ‘I suspect . . . Adolf’s Mein Kampf
will one day become a collector’s item.’ 55 Christabel Bielenberg, taking
refuge in the Black Forest, wondered where the big portrait of the Fiihrer
had gone that had previously adorned the walls of the Burgomaster’s office:
‘In the stove,’ she was told. 56

By 20 November 1946 the icy wind was causing alarm among Berliners,
who were turning up their threadbare collars against the cold. On 6
December Ruth Andreas Friedrich and her friends were wondering if
they could hold out. Ten days later it was minus twenty. The pipes were
frozen. The women returned to fetching water from the pumps. On 21
December the ice had to be broken in the buckets to make morning
coffee. In the American Sector the electricity was turned off for eight to
ten hours a day, and the situation was worse in the British. As the lavatories
were frozen over, the Berliners packed up their excrement and dumped it
in the nearest ruin. Prices rocketed at Christmas. The Andreas Friedrichs
were able to steal a tree in Teltow, but a goose at RM 1,400 was more than
a pair of shoes and much more than they had to spend. A pound of choc¬
olate was RM500, a bar of soap RM40. The maximum monthly earnings
were in the region of RMi,ooo. 57

One of the sufferers that winter was the publisher Peter Suhrkamp,
who was seriously ill as a result of his confinement in Ravensbriick. His
wife was trying her best to treat an inflammation of his lungs by giving him
access to fresh air, yet that meant freezing air. Suhrkamp literally risked life
and limb every time he ventured to the lavatory. The cold had been so
intense that it not only froze the water pipes, but also caused the pipe from
the lavatory to explode, leaving the bathroom floor covered in frozen
excrement. A hot-water pipe had been fed through the bathroom to afford
some feeble warmth. This turned the sewage into a semi-liquid mass the
colour of coffee ice-cream. The only way to rid the bathroom of this
stinking mass was to scrub it with boiling water, but with the lack of

508

THE GREAT FREEZE

combustible material and the terrible cold, it was not possible to get water
that hot. It was weeks before a plumber could effect the necessary repairs;
meanwhile the bathroom remained a serious health hazard. 58

In the courthouse in Nuremberg the Seven survivors from the first
IMT trial felt the cold like everyone else. Speer, who had been ruminating
on how Air Marshal Harris had expressed himself when he spoke about the
Germans — had he used words like ‘extinction’ or ‘annihilation’? — sud¬
denly began to shiver. On 22 December he sat in his cell wrapped in a
blanket, watching his breath. He was wearing his spare underwear around
his feet. On Christmas Eve the men buried the hatchet, or at least declared
a truce: Funk gave Donitz a sausage and Schirach handed Speer a piece of
bacon as neither had received any provisions from home. Neurath also
shared his Christmas biscuits with Speer, while the American chaplain
gave them all cigars, cigarettes and chocolate. 59

That Christmas the grim news leaked out that a second frozen train had
arrived from Poland. Of the refugees, thirty-five had died, stripped of
their clothes at the border, 182 were seriously affected by frostbite, and
twenty-five more required amputations. Among the victims were thirty
children. The Berliners’ stomachs rumbled and they grumbled: under
Hider there had been potatoes. The political risk of letting them go hungry
was becoming apparent. 60 This might have prompted the reforms in the
SBZ. Ration Card VI was scrapped and demontage halted. Seventy-four
Berlin industries were returned to the people. On 7 January 1947 the
barometer had plunged once again in Nuremberg, this time to minus
eighteen Fahrenheit. Speer learned that in Berlin people were burning
their last sticks of furniture. The prisoners’ shower had frozen. 61 The
thermometer sank again on 31 January. The power in Berlin was cut for
eight to ten hours a day again. The Berliners went out with their rucksacks
to scour the Grunewald for kindling. 2

The winter bit everywhere in Europe. Britain had to cut back on its
commitment to the fight against communism, so Greece became an
American sphere of influence. The Soviets made more mischief at the
London Conference of Foreign Ministers of 16 January 1947. Stalin’s
advice appears so contradictory it is small wonder that the Western Allies
could not get the measure of him. He told his delegation that if reparations
obstructed German renewal they should drop their demands, 63 yet the
Soviets backed the Yugoslav leader Joze Vilfan, who was demanding $150
million, 2,470 square miles of Carinthia (including the provincial capital
Klagenfurt and part of the city ofVillach), and 130 square kilometres of
Styria (although to the Russians the Yugoslavs said they would be happy

509

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

with sixty-three square kilometres on the Drau, and an important power
station). These areas possessed large Slovenian populations. The Soviets
added that they wanted a special statute to protect the Croats in
Burgenland. Lord Pakenham dismissed the Yugoslav request, adding that it
was not worth the paper it was written on. 64 The game came to an end the
following year when Stalin and Tito fell out at the Villa Bled.

Business took Ruth Friedrich to Hamburg that winter. She noted a rise
in the popularity of the Nazis. People had been scrawling ‘88’ on walls.
Someone explained that H was the eighth letter of the alphabet, and 88
stood for ‘HH’ or ‘Heil Hitler’. The British were to blame. They were not
sufficiently tough on the Nazis. 65 They had lodged many of the bombed-
out citizens in Nissen huts, where they froze. The police were turning a
blind eye to thefts of coal. They believed that protecting coal supplies was
down to the conquerors. Ruth Friedrich was keen to compare prices with
Berlin. A half-packet of soap powder cost five marks, a quarter pound of
tea a hundred. 66 On her return she missed her connection to the military
train in Hanover, and had to spend twenty-four hours there before she
could catch the next. At first she found a sort of buffet in a bunker where
the people smelled offish and onions. She had to pay a ten-mark deposit
for a beaker to drink some coffee. Later she ran across the black market
where American soap was changing hands for fifty marks a bar. The hand
of the woman who offered it to her was so dirty that she wanted to tell her
to use it herself. She made her way to an official doss-house where she was
put into the women’s dormitory. There she met a woman who had been
raped eight times trying to cross the ‘green border’. She was bleeding
badly and stank. 67

Another smell permeated Berlin that winter: the carbide lamp that
reeked like garlic. Filth, and washing, was a huge problem. Like Hitler’s
victims who languished in concentration camps, it became imperative to
retain human dignity that winter. Zuckmayer spoke of the necessity of
keeping fingernails clean and brushing teeth. Germans went to extra¬
ordinary lengths to polish their shoes, even though there was no bootblack.
Despite the outside temperatures, some Germans — particularly refugees
from the east — were virtually naked and concealed their shame behind
ragged blankets. On their feet they wore bits of planking tied on with
lengths of cloth. 68

Vienna was no warmer. General Bethouart recalled the miserable figures
stumbling past his Hiitteldorf villa returning from the Vienna woods with
faggots. The Viennese spoke of the ‘blue hour’ when gas was issued to the
pipes to allow the citizens to cook their dinners on a low flame. 69 Food was

510

THE GREAT FREEZE

scarce and money no longer had any value. As in Germany, American cig¬
arettes had the greatest worth. Josefine and Leopold Hawelka had managed
to reopen their cafe in the Dorotheergasse. Leopold went off each day to
the Vienna woods to find kindling to keep the stove alight and boil the
kettle for the coffee. Once Josefine forgot she had hidden some cartons of
cigarettes in the stove, and lit it. A great deal of money went up in flames. 70

Bizonia

Clay was in favour of inter-zonal co-operation from the first. Once more
it was the French who stood in the way. He had put his hope in the pro¬
vision for central agencies that had been decreed at Potsdam, but the
French didn’t like the idea of resurrecting the ‘Reich’. ‘If these agencies
cannot be obtained and/or the boundaries of occupied Germany are to be
changed, the present concept of Potsdam becomes meaningless,’ he wrote
in the spring of 1946. There was no exchange of commodities between the
zones. Clay thought it essential to have a common financial policy and
freedom to travel from one to the other. He was so angry with the French
by 16 June that he sued for permission to retire. 71

In Paris on 11 July 1946, Byrnes offered to merge the American Zone
with anyone who was interested. The British took up the offer at the end
of the month and all the problems were ironed out by 9 August. The
joined zones would have a common standard of living, pooled resources
and a common export policy, and would fix imports necessary to supple¬
ment indigenous resources. 72 Heralded by General George Marshall’s
Harvard speech that laid the keel of the famous ‘plan’ to relieve impover¬
ished, war-torn Europe, Bizonia kicked off with an Economic Council in
Frankfurt in June 1947. For the first time in fourteen years the national tri¬
colour was raised. When the Americans noticed, they objected, and it had
to be hauled down. In the course of the Council the Transitional Law was
passed that legalised federal authority over the provincial Lander. It was a
move towards the creation of a sovereign, federal state.

A Thaw in the Weather

In March 1947 milder weather set in, bringing fresh dangers. The hospitals
had filled up with cases of broken bones: people who had slipped on the
ice; and there was now a great stink to replace the great freeze. 73 It was

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

time for the Moscow Conference, which came hard on the heels of the
announcement of the Truman Doctrine, which was designed to lure
Europe away from communism by stick and carrot. Marshall, who had
replaced Byrnes as secretary of state, would develop the policy into the
Marshall Plan in his prize-giving speech at Harvard in June. General Mark
Clark considered Moscow the most important planning meeting between
the Allies since Potsdam. The idea of a peace treaty for Austria was brought
up, and returned to the files. There were attempts to conclude peace with
Germany as well, which had faltered at Paris and New York in December,
and which made no progress in Moscow either. 74 Already the London
Conference discussions just prior to Moscow had been bogged down by
Yugoslav demands. Moscow was a trying time for Clark, who had already
made up his mind to go home. During the night he was woken by calls
from females asking if he needed anything, so that he had to wrap his tele¬
phone in a towel and put it in a drawer. The rooms at the hotel were
bugged, and for privacy the American delegates spoke to each other as they
walked around the Kremlin walls. 75

Stalin was comparatively unmoved by the Truman Doctrine and still
hoped to effect German unity. The French predictably blackballed it. In
April that year French policy changed a litde, as the French communists left
the government which they had haunted since the liberation. It was the
Marshall Plan that seemed to threaten Soviet security, in that it extended
offers of assistance to countries within Stalinist eastern Europe. Molotov
was instructed to break off talks with the West in Paris on 30 June when it
became clear that the Anglo-American plans were directly aimed at the
Soviet Union. The Soviet satellites were ordered to ignore the siren offers
of aid. 76 The Soviet response was Cominform. It was intended to keep the
Eastern bloc on the straight and narrow.

Bevin was more fearsome than Marshall in his belligerence towards the
Soviet Union. There is a story about the London CFM in November
1947, when Bevin confronted the Russian foreign minister. ‘What do you
want?’ he demanded to know. Molotov replied, ‘I want a unified Germany.’
Molotov came to the conclusion that it had been easier to work with the
patrician Eden than with this man of the people. After the London meet¬
ing Soviet policy changed — the Russians were seeking confrontation. The
Cold War had begun. 77

The Carthaginian peace was aired for the last time in October 1947
when the British and Americans announced an unpopular scheme to dis¬
mantle all industries that had originally been constructed for the war effort.
Adenauer protested, pointing out that industrial production was a third of

512

THE GREAT FREEZE

pre-war levels. Lord Pakenham also had his doubts about the fairness of a
policy which was reminiscent of the savage demontage in the Soviet east
that had stripped industry down and bled the zone white.

Nacht und Nebel

By 1947 Austria was liberated, but still not free. At the ‘peace conference’
in Paris the previous autumn that settled matters with the ‘satellite’ states
which had been allied to Hitler’s Reich, Austria was not considered.
Austria was a ‘victim’ when it suited the Allies but most of the time it did
not, and the Russians had never really believed in Austrian innocence. 78
For the Austrians the situation was highly frustrating, especially as 71 per
cent of them thought they bore no guilt for the war, and only 4 per cent
were prepared to concede that Nazism had something to do with them;
although at least 8 per cent had been members of the Party and a million
or so had served in the Wehrmacht — and half of those in the savage war in
the east where no one wore kid gloves.

Austria had also been properly turned over to war work. The Danube
had been pressed into service, forty-two airfields and landing strips had
been created and 50,000 Austrians had been involved in building war¬
planes. The Russians in particular were keen to show how many concealed
weapons they had found in their zone — evidence that the Austrians were
not trustworthy. 79 The Austrians countered that there had been 35,000
Austrian victims of National Socialism, and 65,000 Jews had lost their lives
(the Jews were generally mentioned when it was deemed convenient).
They talked of their resistance and published their Rot- Weiss-Rot Buck in
which Austria’s anti-Nazi stance was fully documented. Moscow poured
cold water on it, and dubbed it a ‘Viennese Masquerade’ - an allusion to
the farce at the heart of Strauss and Hofmannsthal’s Der Rosenkavalier .* 0

The Cold War was now revving up and the Soviets were anxious to
hang on to what they had. Attempts to control the police were finally
checked by the Western Allies, but the West was not able to put a stop to
Nazi-style Nacht und Nehel disappearances which claimed around 400
people over three years. An American report on Soviet kidnappings was
submitted on 18 July 1947. The problem became acute that winter when
the Russians were turning up the heat in Berlin. On 12 April 1948 Martin
Herz wrote, ‘Hardly a week passes in Austria without some person disap¬
pearing without trace . . . last seen being invited by uniformed Soviet
personnel to enter a waiting vehicle’. 81

5i3

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

The wave began with some Balkan subjects the Russians wanted to talk
to. In May 1947 a woman was removed rolled up in a rug. In December Dr
Paul Katscher, who worked in the Ministry of Transport, was kidnapped as
he passed the statue of Goethe near the Hofburg. The next day he had
been due to speak in Geneva about the number of Austrian railway car¬
riages that had disappeared in the east. The Russian commander, Kurasov,
refused to allow Figl to comment on Katscher s disappearance — he was sus¬
pected of being a British agent. Katscher is believed to have perished in a
Soviet prison. Similar charges were levelled against Dr Rafael Spann and
Gertaude Flogl, who were also kidnapped. Another woman, Ernestine
Sunisch, was arrested on the busy Kartnerring in broad daylight.

By the time the Russians kidnapped Anton Marek, a chief inspector of
police and former Dachau inmate, on 11 June 1948, the Berlin blockade
was in full swing. Marek had annoyed the Soviets by purging the police of
its communist stooges. Fie was grabbed outside the Ministry of the
Interior. In Russia he was sentenced to the standard twenty-five years, but
was released after seven, at the conclusion of the State Treaty. The gen¬
darmerie official Johann Kiridus suffered a similar fate. Another civil
servant kidnapped in this way and also released in 1955 was Frau
Ottillinger, head of economic planning. She was taken from the car of her
minister, Peter Krauland. She was not in the Soviet Zone. In 1948 alone it
is thought that around 300 Austrians were the victims of Nacht und Nebel
kidnappings. 82

A Solution in the East

The GDR was still not a foregone conclusion. There was limited room for
manoeuvre at the beginning, and Stalin hung on for longer than the West
before creating his puppet regime. The French sat in their corner and
clamoured for the Ruhr. The Anglo-Americans had made the first moves
when it came to dividing Germany. 83 That the Russians were still making
concessions is clear from Stalin’s meetings with the German Muscovites. At
the end of January 1947 a delegation from the Soviet Zone had visited
Moscow to report to Stalin and Molotov. It contained Pieck, Grotewohl,
Ulbricht, Max Fechner and the interpreter Fred Oelssner. Stalin toyed
with the idea of allowing the SPD back into the Soviet Zone. He was not
impressed by Grotewohl’s opposition to this, which he saw as a sign of
weakness. 84

Stalin wanted to know what the SED thought of a referendum on the

5i4

THE GREAT FREEZE

future structure of Germany. Was it to become a united state, or a federal
state? Grotewohl estimated a 60 per cent majority for a united state. Stalin
did not think that was enough. He wanted to know if there were not more
people to win over in the west who were prepared to accept a state that
looked east. This idea was at the heart of the pan-German peoples congress
at the beginning of 1948 and led to the creation of the NDPD (the
National Democratic Party of Germany) in the Soviet Zone. Stalin was still
keen to see a structure for all Germany. The KPD was renamed the SED
in the Western Zones, but the West refused to accept the change.

The falling out between the Allies was now plain to see. In Berlin the
Western Allies felt particularly vulnerable, and they were surrounded by
Soviet troops. 85 The Soviet plan to erect national German legal jurisdic¬
tions foundered at the Moscow Foreign Ministers’ Conference. The abject
failure of the conference fanned rumours of war. On 6 and 7 December
1947 the People’s Congress for Unity and Just Peace met in East Berlin. Of
the 2,215 delegates, 664 came from the Western zones. Their mandates
were dodgy, in that they had been selected by parties rather than by a
popular vote. The idea was to elect a delegation to go to London to put
pressure on the foreign ministers’ meeting there and call for national unity.
A delegation was elected, but it did not receive permission to enter the
United Kingdom. 86

Before it broke up, the Congress had issued a manifesto calling for a
central German administration, the nationalisation of industry in the
Western zones and the formation of a united German government once a
formal peace treaty had been signed. A standing committee was also chosen
to prepare for a second congress in March 1948. Such moves were not
rejected out of hand by the Liberal and Christian Democrat parties in the
Western zones. The CDU already possessed a ‘working community’ with
its Eastern sister and was equally keen to see the establishment of national
representation. Even the SPD leadership was prepared to co-operate in
principle. On the other hand they would not work with the SED as long
as the SPD was banned in the Soviet Zone. It was therefore Grotewohl
who stood in the way of progress in this matter, together with the Allied
Control Council. The French once more smelled the unity-rat and were
particularly adamantine in their refusal to allow cross-zonal political activ¬
ities. Another negative voice was that of Jakob Kaiser, which prompted the
Soviet authorities to banish him from their zone. The SED were left as the
sole voice behind the 1948 Congress, which effectively destroyed its cred¬
ibility.

As it was the Congress met on 17—18 March 1948 in East Berlin. There

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

were 2,000 delegates, 500 of them from the West. The SED presence was
naturally that much stronger, and the percentage of CDU delegates
declined from a quarter to a fifth. The Congress created a German People’s
Council composed of 300 East German members and a hundred from the
West. This was divided into committees, and discussions began on the form
of a constitution for a united German Democratic Republic. There was a
repeat too of Stalin’s call for a plebiscite. There was an immediate negative
response from both the Americans and the French, who refused to recog¬
nise the gathering in Berlin. The British tolerated the Congress but
nonetheless described the suggestion as ‘useless, unnecessary and uncalled
for’. With the Western powers turning their backs on the call for unity, the
take-up was almost completely limited to the Soviet Zone.

The West had already made its decision. A six-power conference meet¬
ing in London in February and March 1948 backed the Marshall Plan:
American finance would help rebuild Western Europe. Germany had to
play its role in this, and could not be plundered for ever. It became clear at
the time that the West already had plans to create a separate German state
in its zones. 87 The Russians were naturally angry that discussions were
being held about Germany to which they were not party and called the
entire Control Council into question. They saw the Marshall Plan as the
embodiment of American imperialism. In February 1948 the bourgeois
parties were eliminated from the Czech government, giving a clear signal
that the Soviet Union was consolidating its power within its bloc. All over
the east the Russians began to show their hand — in Romania, Poland,
Hungary and Bulgaria. When a separate German state was mooted at the
Second London Conference that took place between April and June 1948
and a new currency agreed on 18 June, Germany’s split had been effectively
achieved.

516

The Berlin Airlift and the Beginnings of
Economic Recovery

24 June 1948

With a rattling din yesterday night an iron curtain fell between
Helmstadt and Marienborn.

Ruth Andreas Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin,
Frankfurt/Main 1985, 236

T hree years after the end of the war, Germany was limbering up for eco¬
nomic recovery. Nineteen-forty-eight was to be the year of German
rehabilitation, but there were political problems to face first. Heinrich Boll’s
early short stories describe the beginnings of business after the war. In
‘Geschaft ist Geschaft’ (Business is Business), a man spots an acquaintance,
a former soldier like himself. After the war they had both been depressed:
‘We had our old army caps pulled down over our brows, and when I had a
little cash I’d go to him, and we’d have a chat; sometimes about hunger,
sometimes war; and sometimes he gave me a fag, when I was broke; and I
occasionally brought him bread coupons as I was clearing rubble for a baker
at the time.’ Now there he was in a brand-new, white-painted wooden shop
with a corrugated-iron roof at a busy intersection. He was licensed to sell
cigarettes and gobstoppers. He looked well fed. The man watched as he sent
a little girl packing who didn’t have enough pfennigs for a gobstopper.

The narrator had not done so well. He thought back to the various digs
he had occupied since the end of the war, above all the cellar, which was
not too bad when heated with stolen briquettes. Then the newspapers
learned about it and took photographs and wrote an article on the tragedy
of the returned soldier living in squalor. He had to move. He did occa¬
sional jobs, humping and carrying, or cleaning bricks. At other times he
stole: coal, wood, a loaf of bread. During the war they stole constantly —
somebody stole and the others reaped the reward. Now the same was true
again. He alone was left waiting at the tram-stop, while the others were
already on board heading for their destinations.

5i7

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

He stood watching the man in the booth. The other gave him no sign
of recognition. He watched another man picking up fag-ends. In his POW
camp he had seen colonels doing just that, ‘but this one wasn’t a colonel’.
He was one of the unlucky ones like the narrator. For some people coming
back from the war was like getting off the tram at their stop. The house was
still there, if a bit dusty, there was jam in the cupboard and potatoes in the
cellar. Life went back to normal; the old firm took them back. ‘There was
still medical insurance; you went through the paces of denazification — just
like a man going to the barber to have an annoying beard shaved off’. On
holidays and holy days they could chat about their medals and about acts of
gallantry and come to the conclusion ‘that we were really splendid fellows,
in the end just doing what was required of us’.

In another story, ‘Mein Onkel Fred’ (My Uncle Fred), Boll’s epony¬
mous hero comes back from the war, possessing nothing but a tin can
containing a few cigarette butts. He demands bread, sleep and tobacco;
then he lies down on the sofa and, complaining it is too small for him,
remains there, scarcely stirring, for months.

The fourteen-year-old narrator is the family breadwinner. His father has
been killed in the war, and his mother has a small pension. The boy’s job
was to take unwanted possessions to the black market, swapping a Dresden
cup for some semolina, three volumes of Gustav Freytag for two ounces of
coffee or a pillow for some bread. Freytag’s brand of German nationalism
must have seemed highly dispensable just after the war. At other times he
stole coal. His mother wept at the thought of this, but did nothing to stop
him.

Meanwhile Uncle Fred snoozed on the sofa. One day his sister — the
boy’s mother — suggested gently that he might enquire whether there was
a position going in his old firm, where he had kept the books. The boy was
sent to find out. He discovered a pile of rubble about twenty feet high.
Uncle Fred was clearly elated when the news was brought to him. He
asked the boy to break open a crate containing his few effects. In it was his
savings book, containing 1,200 marks and a few other objects of trifling
worth and his diploma from the Chamber of Commerce. The boy was told
to collect the cash and sell the rest. He managed to dispose of all but the
diploma, as Uncle Fred’s name had been inscribed with India ink. This
provided enough food for weeks, a considerable relief as the schools had
opened their doors again and the narrator was compelled to finish his
studies.

Uncle Fred rose Lazarus-like from the sofa, shaved and called for clean
underwear. He borrowed the boy’s bicycle and set off for the city. He

518

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

returned smelling strongly of wine and armed with a dozen buckets. He
had decided to revive the flower trade in the town. He set up beside the
tram stop and with a shout of ‘Flowers, fresh flowers — no coupons
required!’ he began his new life. Within three weeks he had three dozen
buckets and two branches, and a month later he was paying taxes. It was
impossible for the boy to keep up with his uncle’s progress: there were
ever more buckets and branches, and soon he had colonised the entire
town. The boy retired from his branch of the family business and con¬
centrated on school. A few years later his uncle was a man of substance in
a red car, and the boy was designated his heir — only he had to go to busi¬
ness school first.

In the spring of 1947 Alfred Doblin paid the first of two visits to the
German capital. It was here he had achieved fame for Berlin-Alexanderplatz,
the most famous novel of the Weimar Republic, and also the best-known
fictionalised account of Berlin life. By his own account, Doblin entered
though the back door. Like Renee Bedarida he landed in Frohnau in the
French Sector. It was a soft introduction, but he had few illusions: ‘Reality
exceeds fantasy.’ He went into the centre, arriving at the same Stettin
Station that had received him and his family when they came from the
Pomeranian port in 1888. He was immediately struck by the vision of an
elegant restaurant with chandeliers and brightly painted shutters. Outside
the signs were in Cyrillic. It was for Russians. 1

He went west, arriving in an incongruously elegant flat in the
Kurfiirstendamm, in the British Sector. There was a publisher there (pos¬
sibly Suhrkamp). ‘I asked what do the people get up to here? I was told that
many sold their possessions, if they still had any, and lived off the proceeds.
One piece after another disappeared in this way. Many dealt on the black
market, very many.’ 2

The terrible weather was over — it was a sunny day, and they went out
to the Cafe Wien. There was no coffee to be had, and the ‘cup’ turned out
to be no more than coloured mineral water. Doblin looked for the cinema
that had given the premiere of the film of his novel Berlin-Alexanderplatz.
It was no more. The fashionable literary cafe of the Weimar days, the
Romanischen, was open — to the skies. The sheer enormity of the destruc¬
tion at last dawned on Doblin. Here was the city he had so ably chronicled
in his novels, and almost all of it was gone: the Wintergarten with its var¬
iety shows, the Viktoria Cafe. There were no buildings either side of the
Brandenburg Gate. He watched with astonishment as a Russian soldier
walked past the Kranzler Eck with his lover on his arm. A paper seller gave
him what for: ‘As things are going in Europe and the world, anything is

5i9

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

possible, and who knows if, after ten or twenty years, a Russian soldier and
his wife will be walking along the wrecked boulevards of some western
city.’ 3

Doblin continued his voyage of discovery. On the Schlossbriicke (called
the ‘Dolls’ Bridge’ because of the statues of Prussian worthies) he had rec¬
ollections of the various Kaisers. There was little more than the river. On
Alexanderplatz he looked at the great department store Tietz: ‘It looks like
a man who has had his neck broken by a blow, and whose skull has been
pushed down into his ribcage.’ Doblin was bitter. He had converted to
Catholicism, but he could not quite bring himself to bestow mercy on his
former tormentors: “What am I actually doing here . . . They allowed
themselves to be defiled ... I feel like a man who has been betrayed.’ 4 In
the Konigstrasse he noticed women pushing prams past the wreck of
another Jewish department store, Wertheim — they were filled with wood.
His goal was the Frankfurter Allee, where he had lived and practised: a
popular quarter that provided him with models for his books. ‘The sight
was shocking. A terrible martial violence must have descended to knock
these houses flat. . . Every now and then a facade reported for duty. There
the house must have stood ... It is no longer what I knew and where I
lived.’ 5

Doblin returned to give a lecture the following year. Berlin made him
uneasy: ‘This was the principal theatre of the horror. This is where the
crime took wings. The nation allowed itself to be deafened by singing
youth and applauding bystanders.’ He was hard on Berlin, a city that was no
more enthusiastic about Hider than many others. ‘The judgment of history
speaks in a terrible voice.’ But Doblin’s message is one of hope: ‘A man
finds it easier than a city to change. A man may transform himself where a
city crumbles away.’ 6

Currency Reform

The currency had been chaotic since the end of the war. The Soviets had
simply printed money when they needed it, and this had caused rampant
inflation. 7 Nobody trusted cash. Farmers and shopkeepers were placed in
a difficult position. The former avoided the market. The latter ruled over
empty shops in the basements of ruined buildings. Germany’s post-war
planners therefore conceived of a system that would inject confidence into
the currency and wind up the black market and the cigarette economy.
They wanted to create a marketplace where shopkeepers and manufactur-

520

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

ers were kept permanently short of working capital to create a powerful
incentive for rapid turnover and all cash received would promptly be spent
on new goods. The scheme was an instant success. The Germans were
often literally ‘drunk’ with the opportunities it gave them, and the black
market disappeared overnight. 8

The first proposals for monetary reform were made in the autumn of
1946. The Reichsmark was pegged at ten to a dollar. Barter markets were
created in order to undermine the illegal black markets where most
Germans did their shopping. In January 1947 Clay believed the new
money to replace the Reichsmark should be centrally printed in Berlin, but
there were doubts about the Russians. As it was, the cigarette economy had
its own ways of regulating itself. The price of a twenty-cent packet of cig¬
arettes was RM120, which remained the same for six months even in
Berlin. French cigarettes were a third of that sum. A month’s shopping
amounted to only RM50. A dollar was worth 600 marks, so six marks
bought you a cigarette. In the Rhineland Elena Skijabina was able to buy
a lorry with a suitcase filled with cigarettes. 9 With rumours that the old
money was shortly to go, there was frenzied buying to get rid of potentially
worthless currency. In May 1948 the price of a pound of strawberries had
gone down to RM25 and cherries were now at 12. The pubs were filled
with Berliners drinking away their reserves. Elena Skrjabina’s Bendorf shop
was doing a roaring trade. 10

The problem was that the new money did not come, and the prices
began to rise again. On 16 June a pound of coffee cost 2,400 marks. Two
days later the word was out that the new currency was to be called the
‘Deutsche Mark’. On 25 June 1948 currency reform was introduced in
the Western zones. The old money would be exchanged at a rate of one-
tenth of the new, though for a while the two currencies ran side by side.
The SBZ had been excluded from monetary reform because the
Russians could not have been trusted to print the right amounts. 11 By
June 1948 Ludwig Erhard had made arrangements to print 500 tons of
banknotes in the US and have them airlifted to Frankfurt. Virtually all
rationing and price controls were abolished. Clay told him that his ad¬
visers had said that the move was a terrible mistake. Erhard replied:
‘Herr General, pay no attention to them. My own advisers tell me the
same thing.’ 12

The Soviet answer was immediate. That same day the Russian com¬
mander Sokolovsky required the SBZ to introduce ‘immediate and
necessary measures to protect the interests of the German population and
the economy of the Soviet Zone’. 13 The Russians acted that night:

521

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

passenger trains were halted, and at the beginning of July they cut the city
off completely from the West.*

In the meantime shops in the Western zones filled with goods; black
markets disappeared; people ceased to ‘hamster’; and production increased.
The atmosphere changed too. Every man, woman and child received
DM60 in two instalments, and they all set out on shopping sprees. Ruth
Friedrich’s friend Frank reported from Munich that the shops were
crammed with food and that no one spoke of calories any more, because
they all had enough to eat. 14 Clay wrote to his guru Byrnes to complain
about the British and the French, who had dragged their feet over the cur¬
rency reform. Clay could report the immediate benefits: ‘Overnight
hoarded goods appeared on the shelves as the stores had to sell to meet pay¬
rolls . . . even fruits and vegetables from the farm once more went on sale
in the market place.’ In one month productivity had risen by 10 per cent.

In Hehlen the Schulenburgs were now the proud possessers of DM280,
but Charlotte still didn’t know where the next tranche of money would
come from. There was a knock at the door and her faithful cook and maid
Klara came in wearing a white apron. Charlotte handed her DM40, and
Klara said, ‘I want to tell her ladyship something, I don’t want any more
money.’ When Charlotte replied that she had none to give her for the time
being, the maid said, ‘I am doing this for his lordship’s sake.’ She meant:
you don’t have to thank me. 15

Crisis in Berlin

Doblin’s second visit marked the moment of change in Berlin. From June
1947 the city had a new mayor in Ernst Reuter, a former communist and
intimate of Lenin’s who had gone over to the socialists in the 1920s and had
emigrated to Turkey on the arrival of the Nazis. He had returned to
Germany in November 1946 and taken a British train from Hanover to
Berlin at the end of the month. On 5 December he was elected to the
council. It was a bad moment to start, just before the killer winter. The
council worked just half the day, as the offices could not be heated. 16 The
Russians vetoed his election as mayor, because, they said, Turkey was a fas¬
cist country. Louise Schroeder had to take his place meanwhile. Stalin was
looking to find a way of preventing the Western Allies from creating their
own Germany. It was the policy that Bob Murphy called ‘irritate and

* See below pp. 527-8.

522

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

tire’ — wear down the West. 17 Come what may, the Russians would force
the Western Allies out. Molotov made it sound like ‘them or us’: ‘If we are
to lose in Germany we would have lost the war.’ 18 Everything short of mil¬
itary force was to be used. The Russians were constantly probing and
pushing, spreading rumours that the Western Allies were about to pack
their bags. They invaded the railway offices in the US Zone, but the
Americans resisted and they backed off. They made applications to the
Americans for any of their citizens hiding in their sector. 19

Currency reform was the pretext, but it wasn’t really about that. The
Soviets saw the chance of making the Western Allies abandon Berlin,
thereby losing their attraction to the Germans, or forcing them to drop the
London programme for a separate state, or obliging them to return to the
grand alliance as embodied in the CFM mechanism. 20 There was fear in
some quarters that the Russians would succeed. 21 Clay for one was look¬
ing for a showdown:

I doubt very much if this action would imperil the quadripartite machinery.

If it should, we still force the Russians to slam the door and even if they did
slam the door, we should still continue in Berlin. However, we cannot con¬
tinue successfully unless we establish a governmental machinery for western
Germany. The resentment of the Germans against colonial administration is
increasing daily and those democratic Germans who hate communism and
would prefer to establish the types and kind of government which we desire
will soon lose their positions of leadership with their own people.

He told the under-secretary of the army, William Draper, that ‘two and a
half years without government is much too long’. On 5 November 1947 he
said that a provisional government would be established no later than 31
January 1948. 22

The others were not so sure. General Robertson was for appeasement.
The French even considered allowing the Russians the stake in the Ruhr
they coveted so much. 23 Clay was right that the Russians were not actually
looking for a fight. They wanted to humiliate the West by offering to pro¬
vision all the Berliners. That way they would win their love. The Berliners
certainly did march on their stomachs, and their stomachs were empty. The
Russians were going to keep the air corridors open and avoid military con¬
frontations. They made no preparations for a military emergency. Nor
was the Western bluff that convincing: the bombers the Americans sent to
Britain were not configured for atom bombs. 24

From 23 February 1948 the London Conference was debating just this
question. The Russians had jumped off the CFM carousel at the end of the

523

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

previous year. They were not invited to London. In their absence and in the
imposing setting of India House the foreign ministers of Britain, Belgium,
France, Holland, Luxembourg and the United States were giving form to
the state of West Germany. On 17 March the Brussels Pact was signed as the
first step towards NATO. The terms were leaked to the Soviets by Donald
Maclean on the same day the Prague coup took place. Most of the Western
ministers were convinced that the time had come to split Germany in two,
but the French held aloof for the time being. They thought the Russians
would prevent it. They only reluctantly agreed to the idea of West Germany
because of Prague and because Sokolovsky walked out of the Control
Council on the 20th. Couve de Murville, the French foreign minister,
began to panic and decided there would be a fresh war within three years. 25

Howley had been made American commandant at the Kommandatura
on 1 December 1947. He was looking forward to a scrap too. He called his
British counterpart, General Herbert, ‘shockingly defeatist’. When the
Russians cut off the city in June, Herbert predicted that that would drive
the Westerners out by October. 26 He might have been conscious of just
how weak the West was. In a reply to Senator Henry Cabot Lodge dated
5 March 1948, Clay detailed the strength of the American forces in Berlin —
there were fewer than 2,000 soldiers. ‘It is obviously our desire to retain as
small as garrison as possible.’ The Americans also had some German police
auxiliaries, as the Russian-backed Markgraf Police (run by Paul Markgraf)
were not meant to function in the American Zone. 27

On 18 March there was cause for a little celebration in Berlin. It was the
centenary of the March Revolution of 1848 which had brought a brief tri¬
umph to the cause of the German middle classes, before they joined the
more reactionary nobility and rallied behind Bismarck and the Empire. A
crowd of 30,000 gathered at the ruined Reichstag. There were speeches
from Franz Neumann of the SPD, Jakob Kaiser of the CDU and the
mayor-elect, Ernst Reuter. Reuter alluded to the events in Prague. Who
will be next?’ he asked. Berlin would be next. ‘If the world knows this we
will not be abandoned by the world.’ 28

The situation was worsening with each month. There were no barriers
between the sectors, and those fleeing the Russians could try to disappear
in the west of the city in the hope of finding a way out to the West. On 25
March the journalist Dieter Friede disappeared in a Nacht und Nebel kid¬
napping. The Soviet authorities later justified their actions by claiming that
he was a spy. The ‘Mini Blockade’ was next. It began on 31 March and
lasted until 2 April. The SBZ’s policy was improvised. 29 This time it was
provoked by an Anglo-American refusal to allow the Russians to board

524

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

their military trains. 30 One of these crossed the Soviet Zone daily. There
were also several freight trains every week, thirty-two daily ‘paths’ — or
crossings — to supply the garrison and the Germans and a daily passenger
aircraft. It was a warning shot, a trial run. Three days later, on 2 April, the
Allied Kommandatura was dissolved. More disappearances followed. Some
200,000 people were reported to have been forcibly taken to the USSR
since the end of the war. The Berliners felt particularly vulnerable once
again. The Russian-backed SED launched a propaganda campaign in the
Western sectors. 31

The Soviets had shown their hand in the communist takeover in Prague
in February and Jan Masaryk’s suspicious death the following month. They
were now openly demonstrating what was in store for their bloc. Truman
understood that Berlin needed to be held for propaganda purposes; it was
also necessary to stop the flow of communism west. ‘If we failed to main¬
tain our position there, communism would gain great strength among the
Germans.’ 32 Like Clay he gave the Germans no credit for being able to
make up their own minds.

Prague brought the French down to earth. It was timely that Robert
Schuman was president of the council, and possessed the sort of wise head
France needed at the time. In March Koenig met Clay and Robertson in
Berlin for talks on the German constitution and the French merging with
Bizonia to form Trizonia. Koenig became predictably uppity at the idea of
a ‘Reichstag’. On 6 April Couve de Murville flew to Germany to see Clay.
Fie was concerned that Berlin might fall to the Russians. They also dis¬
cussed currency reform. When the Russians did move to cut Berlin off
from the west, the French foreign minister Bidault stressed that for the sake
of Allied prestige there could be no backing down. Schuman, who had
begun his political career in Germany, insisted that Berlin was a symbol that
could not be abandoned. It was not thought politic that any French soldiers
should die for Berlin, however, and the French air force was kept out of the
operation, the excuse being that it was too weak — which was probably
true. 33

Airlift

Russian ‘milk snatchers’ formed the pretext for the airlift. The Russians
were supposed to provide food for the entire population of Berlin,
although the Western Allies donated the flour. To this end the Russians had
7,000 cows in suburban farms. In the early summer of 1948 they cut off the

525

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

milk. Berliners were obliged to go to the east in lorries to collect it. The
American medical officer reported to Howley: ‘Unless we get fresh milk,
six thousand babies in our sector will be dead by Monday.’ Three years
before, the Anglo-Americans had had fewer scruples about infant mortal¬
ity. Howley saw Russian uncooperativeness as an attempt to intimidate the
Americans and ordered in 200 tons of condensed milk and another 150
tons of powdered milk. Howley proudly reported that not one baby died
in his sector. 34

Clay thought he might keep his meagre garrison alive, but not the
Germans. The Soviet attempt to prevent the Western Allies from reaching
their sectors of the city provoked a discussion between Clay and Robertson
on the legitimate response. The British decided they would not shoot if the
Americans did not. ‘I believe this [the Russian move] is bluff,’ wrote Clay,
‘but do not wish to bluff back as British may be doing unless we mean it
[sir].’ 35 The American secretary of the army, General Kenneth Royall,
thought the president should send Stalin a note. He was not certain how
serious the situation had become. Clay replied, ‘I do not believe this means
war but any failure to meet this squarely will cause great trouble.’ He
added that he would rather go to Siberia than abandon Berlin. The Soviets
were now challenging the Western Allies’ right to be in Berlin in the first
place. Clay cited the EAC agreement made during the war, by which the
German capital would be administered by the three powers. Added to this
there was the oral agreement with Zhukov of 5 June 1945 and ‘three years
of application’. The right to provision the city and its Western garrisons
was governed by mostly tacit or oral agreements. 36

Clay was not prepared to put up with hair-splitting: ‘Legalistic argument
no longer has meaning . . . our reply will not be misunderstood by 42 mil¬
lion Germans and perhaps 200 million West Europeans. We must say, we
think, as our letter does, “this far you may go and no further.” There is no
middle ground which is not appeasement.’ 37 Clay continued to see the idea
of the Russians inspecting trains as the thin end of the wedge: the ‘integrity
of our trains is a part of our sovereignty’. It was a ‘symbol of our position
in Germany and in Europe’. When the Anglo-Americans put the Russian
‘bluff’ to the test the Soviet authorities would not let them cross the SBZ
without prior inspection. The managers of the trains all refused bar one
American, who panicked and let the Russians on board. The decision was
made to switch to aircraft. 38

That was also not without difficulties at first. On 5 April a Soviet Yak
fighter dived under a scheduled British BEA Vickers Viking aircraft as it
came into land at Gatow. As it rose it took off the starboard wing of the

526

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

Viking. Both planes crashed, killing the fifteen British and American pas¬
sengers and crew together with the pilot of the Yak. Robertson called for
fighter protection for the transports and immediately went to see
Sokolovsky in protest. The Russian commander was adamant that the
pilot had had no orders from him to buzz the British plane. He would not
direct the Soviet air force to molest flights in the corridor. Robertson was
satisfied with his answer and called off the escort. Later the Russians
showed a similar docility when there were complaints about the position¬
ing of a barrage balloon. No one wanted to take responsibility for war. 39

Clay was not going to budge. There was little or no freight for the time
being, as it required permission from the Russians, ‘which I will not
request’. The British had their own aircraft, but the French had ‘no air
transport worthy of the name’ even if, for the time being, they were happy
to keep their small force in Berlin. Clay was still stubbornly determined:
‘We are convinced that our remaining in Berlin is essential to our prestige
in Germany and Europe. Whether for good or bad, it has become a symbol
of American intent.’ 40

The balloon went up again when the Russians walked out of the
Kommandatura on 17 June, Howley was relieved. They claimed that there
was an urgent need to repair the roads near Magdeburg and the bridges
over the Elbe, which therefore had to be closed. On 22 June the price of
coffee had risen to RM3,ooo, bread was at 200 and a single Chesterfield
was 65. 41 On the 24th the motorway was blocked between Berlin and
Helmstedt. 42 Only military convoys were allowed to pass. They also cut off
supplies of gas and electricity to the Western sectors of the city. Ruth
Friedrich noted in her diary that an ‘iron curtain’ had abruptly fallen
between Helmstadt and Marienborn. 43 ‘We poor little Berlin mice!’ They
had spent all their money, and the Russians were doing their best to pre¬
vent the new currency from crossing their zone. ‘In the end the entirety of
Berlin had harmed their stomachs in the prospect of currency reform.’ 44
The new currency was issued in the Western zones on 25 June at 7.00 a.m.
That same day the Russians stopped the supply of brown coal to the city.
From 7 July coal would also have to be brought in by air. ‘I do not expect
armed conflict,’ wrote Clay; the ‘principal danger is from Russian-planned
communist groups out looking for trouble’. For such a propagandist, he
was surprisingly worried about the behaviour of the Berliners: ‘Perhaps the
greatest danger comes from the amazing resistance of the Berlin popula¬
tion. This is driving the Soviet administration and the SED to further
extreme measures.’ 45

‘June 24 1948’, wrote Howley grandiloquently, ‘is one of the most

527

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

infamous dates in the history of civilisation. The Russians tried to murder
an entire city to gain a political advantage.’ 4 ' 1 There were 2,250,000
Germans in the Western sectors, and just 6,500 soldiers to protect them.
The Russians had 18,000 men in their sector and another 300,000 stationed
in their zone. 47 In order to stress the weakness of the Western powers the
Russians began military manoeuvres. Bevin, who (as opposed to Attlee)
was running the show in London, chipped in by inviting the Americans to
station B-29 bombers in Britain. It was hoped that this gesture would
concentrate the Russians’ minds, even if there was no provision for their
carrying nuclear weapons. Britain was rapidly becoming a client nation of
the United States. 48

The Berlin airlift began on 26 June. The idea came from the British. Air
Commodore Reginald Waite proposed a scheme to supply the civilians as
well as the garrisons. He and Robertson took the scheme to Clay, who up
until then had preferred the idea of a convoy. 49 General John Cannon was
responsible for the name ‘Operation Vittles’. Ruth Friedrich noted the
change: ‘The skies are buzzing as they did during the Blitz. For the time
being the American military authorities have increased air traffic to Berlin
to a maximum.’ 50 The density was to increase. At first the excuse was the
need to provision the American and other Allied garrisons, then Clay
made it clear that the Soviets would not be allowed to starve the Berliners
in the Western sectors. For eleven months American C-47S (‘Gooney
Birds’, which the Berliners called ‘Rosinenbomber’ or raisin bombers)
and C-54S, as well as British cargo planes, under the command of the
American Major-General Tunner and the Briton Air Marshal Williams
flew in 4,000 tons of food daily. British Sunderland flying boats landed on
the Havel, bringing much needed salt from Hamburg. At the height of
Operation Vittles, 13,000 tons of food was delivered in twenty-four hours.

British planes left Frassberg for Gatow, while the Americans flew from
Wiesbaden to Tempelhof. The Americans operated two-thirds of the
flights, the British the rest. West Berlin was the prize won for the new,
Allied-backed West German state. 51 Clay wanted to know if American
service families should be flown to safety. Truman advised against it, saying
that it would have a bad ‘psychological effect’. Clay agreed to make ‘emer¬
gency arrangements for essential supplies’. 52 The political nature of the
blockade was swiftly understood by Truman. It was fully in keeping with
his doctrine: this far but no further. He told Clay to make the blockade-
busting formal. The humanitarian aspect was important, but so was access
to the former capital. On 26 June Truman directed that the airlift be put on
a full-scale organised basis. Every available aircraft was to be used. 53 The

528

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

same day the Russians introduced Order 111 which created their own cur¬
rency. This took the form of coupons attached to existing banknotes. The
coupons were stuck on with glue made from the ubiquitous potato. On the
fourth exchange it fell off. The Berliners were quick to dub them
Tapetenmark or wallpaper money. The new notes were ready on 26 July.

The SBZ authorities were credited with saying they were going to ‘Dry
out the Western Sector as we would tie a tourniquet around a wart.’ 54 On
26 June it was reported that the Americans could provision the city for
another thirty days. News was transmitted by the RIAS (Radio in
American Sector) van. Ruth Friedrich remarked on the ‘frustration of
being at the centre of the world stage and yet only [having] the chance to
be informed of this between twelve midnight and two o’clock in the
morning’. Meanwhile an aircraft flew over her head every eight minutes. 55

On 28 June American soldiers arrested Sokolovsky — allegedly by mis¬
take — for speeding in their sector. He identified himself, but they still held
him for an hour. Sokolovsky told Robertson that the blockade was about
the currency, and he could draw his own conclusions. The Russian was
unconvinced by the game his countrymen were playing in Berlin.
Rumours flew this way and that. Clay was later told that the Russians
intended to put up barrage balloons to impede landing. 56 When the first
proper banknotes were issued in the east, the SBZ further exacerbated the
plight of the westerners by making them go deep into their sector to con¬
vert their old coupons. The dollar was now worth DM28, and a flight to
the West cost $28. No one had DM784. Anyone who might be able to
scrape together such a princely sum had left. Even Ruth Friedrich, who
had endured the worst of it, now thought it was time to go.

Clay’s airlift was as much a propaganda success as the Soviet blockade
was an own goal. In West Berlin and Western Germany the wholly nega¬
tive picture of Soviet aims never disappeared. The crisis also accelerated the
polarisation of the two sides. Otto Grotewohl addressed the SED Central
Committee on 30 June to affirm his clear commitment to an ‘Eastern
orientation’, even if this did not change the Party’s policy on unity. 57
Currency anarchy continued. The Eastern ‘coupon mark’ was now worth
ten Reichsmarks. It could also be used in the Western sectors, but not for
everything. A money market grew up around the Zoo Station. Certain
currencies were used for different goods: matches were paid for with
Western money; onions half and half; raisins Western; sugar Eastern. You
bought a newspaper with Eastern money, but the printing had to be paid
for with Western currency. 58

The Western authorities prevented the new currency from reaching

529

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

Berlin, but the SBZ did not call off the blockade. ‘Technical problems’ had
required the closing of land routes and waterways to Berlin. As Lucius Clay
put it, ‘the technical difficulties would last until the Western Powers buried
their plans for a West German government’. 59 On 2 July the Russians cut
off the water to the Western sectors, claiming the need to repair the locks.
Howley pointed out that water was needed to make bread, although once
again he was unclear about how much. 60

A great disappointment to the Berliners was the craven behaviour of
Wilhelm Furtwangler, who cancelled his appearance with the Berlin
Philharmonic Orchestra on 7 July 1948. The conductor was due to direct
the orchestra in Potsdam with American soloists. He evidently thought it
would be too risky, even though the Americans had agreed to lay on the
transport. The Berliners had to be satisfied with Leopold Ludwig. 61 As a
result of the airlift, the Russian-occupied Radio Station could no longer be
used. Eventually the Soviet authorities gave up their island in the British
Sector and built themselves a new station in Adlershorst in their own fief.
The next day the blockade claimed its first life when an American Dakota
crashed. The second crash occurred two weeks later on the 25th when a
C-47 ploughed into a house in Friedenau killing the crew. 62

On 14 July the Russians dropped all pretence about ‘technical difficul¬
ties’. 63 A week later a plane was landing every three minutes, but the
situation was dire, and in November and December the operation was
often hampered by fog, even if the weather miraculously improved when
the food situation was at its worst. Radar allowed some planes to land. The
lack of landing space had meant that the French airstrip at Tegel was being
rapidly made ready for aircraft. As many as 17,000 men were working on
the runway, on the promise of a hot meal every day. Berliners received at
best a couple of hours’ electricity at day, and often had to wait until the
middle of the night to cook. The short-lived burst of electric light brought
the same sort of euphoria as a glass of wine. The lucky ones lived in an
Allied-occupied building. They had power and light. 64

On 23 July Clay reported to Truman in the White House. It was not
going to be a repeat of Potsdam. Truman was not to be bamboozled. He
returned to the idea of supplying the city by armed convoys. Clay was not
so keen, but he did not think the Russians were prepared to go to war. 65
In America voices were raised calling for a break with the Russians. ‘These
people did not understand that our choice was only between negotiations
and war,’ Truman said. ‘There was no third way.’ 66 The real reason for the
blockade must have become obvious to all and sundry on 27 July when the
Conference of Foreign Ministers in London decided that they had agreed

530

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

on the creation of a West German state. All that was needed now was a
‘basic law’ to serve as a constitution. The basic law ( Grundgesetz) would be
ratified by the provincial assemblies or Landtage. There would be no vote
in the east, as the ministers had decided the people were not free to express
their opinions and might vote against. Clay concluded once again that the
Germans needed the responsibility of self-government. Germany was to
have its own administration before the peace treaty. This little bombshell
made the Western Allies reconsider evacuating some Berliners who might
otherwise have been abducted. 67

The West had finally had enough of the Soviet-controlled Markgraf
Police and on 26 July organised their own force under Johannes Stumm,
Markgraf s former deputy. Three-quarters of the Markgraf Police promptly
deserted to the Stumm. When on 29 July the Magistrat or town council
tried to meet at the Red Rathaus they were met by SED members chant¬
ing, ‘We want just one currency!’ Members of the council were intimidated
and beaten up, and Western policemen were carried off by SED thugs.
One who was manhandled was Jeanette Wolff, a Jewess who had survived
two concentration camps. She was called a ‘Judensau’ (Jewish pig) in the
Rathaus carpark. ‘I have only one life to lose, and this life belongs to free¬
dom,’ she exclaimed. The communist stooges stormed the council chamber.
The future author of Berlin’s constitution, Otto Suhr, refused to begin the
session until they left. Louise Schroder, standing in for Reuter, told the com¬
munists to be reasonable, and to go home and listen to the session on the
radio. The SED men withdrew. ‘The storming of the Bastille’ was over. 68

Berlin was sealed off by road, rail and water. Contingency plans were
made to withdraw the Allied armies to the Rhine. On 2 August Stalin said
he would lift the blockade if both Eastern and Western marks were allowed
to circulate freely throughout Berlin. It was also the ‘insistent wish’ of the
Soviet government that the Allies ‘postpone the next stages planned in the
integration of the Western Zones’. The Russians admitted that the West
was in Berlin ‘on sufferance’, but would not concede that it was ‘there by
right’. 69 The next day Clay said he was prepared to compromise on the
currency issue. Molotov wanted more: on 10 August he demanded control
of exports from the Western sectors. Clay told Washington to reject this
request. 70 In the meantime the Markgraf police were being increasingly
tough on people seeking Western currency. On the 12th they arrested 320
on the Potsdamer Platz. On the 24th Stalin changed his mind, and once
again requested the withdrawal of the currency, but the West said no: it had
been a success. That same day there was a mid-air collision between two
C-47S. Both crews perished. 71

53i

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

The four military governors met on i September. Sokolovsky was con¬
cerned that the air transports might be used to flood Berlin with new
Deutsche Marks. Three days later the Russian commander came clean: the
restrictions were the result of the London Conference and were aimed at
the splitting of eastern and west Germany’. 72 Berliners were getting by with
dried potatoes and other vegetables and tinned meat. The suicide rate rose
again. There were now around seven a day. Sokolovsky also announced
that the Soviet Union would start air-force manoeuvres over Berlin on the
6th. This was, he said, normal practice for this time of the year. Clay
noted in his report to Washington, ‘This is amusing since in the four sum¬
mers we have been in Berlin we have never heard of these manoeuvres
previously.’ Robertson expressed the hope that the Soviet manoeuvres
would not interfere with the air corridor. Sokolovsky replied, ‘Certainly.’
Clay was not certain whether that meant ‘Certainly yes’ or ‘Certainly
no’. 73

On 6 September there was an attempted coup d’etat at the Stadthaus.
Clay naturally had a report of the new outrage:

Meanwhile their [that is, the Soviets’] tactics in Berlin are getting rough.
Yesterday a communist mob prevented City Assembly from meeting. It
manhandled three American reporters at the scene. Today a well-organised
mob was on hand again. The deputy mayor foolishly took forty-odd plain
clothes men from western sectors to keep order. Uniformed police of the
Soviet sector under direct orders of Soviet officer started to arrest them.
They rushed into offices of three western liaison representatives where some
are still at siege. However, Soviet sector police broke into our office and led
about twenty of the poor devils off to death or worse.

Pride is a cheap commodity, thank God, or I could never hold my head
up. We are being pushed around here like we were a fourth class nation. My
impulse was to send our military police in to restore order as Americans
were being pushed around by Germans.

Clay thought there would be more ‘inspired rioting in western sectors’.
Robertson was optimistic. Clay was not. 74

The meeting was the last one held in the Red Rathaus. As the Western
delegates were unable to make it through the Soviet Sector they met in the
Taberna Academica on the Steinplatz in the British Sector instead. The
Russians responded by kidnapping some of Stumm’s men, and the intimi¬
dation did not stop there: even Howley suffered from anonymous
nocturnal telephone calls.

In Washington General Draper expressed concern. Clay thought there
would be more of these Goebbels-style ‘spontaneous demonstrations’. ‘I

532

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

think mob-violence is prelude to Soviet-picked city government taking
over the city; then spreading mob-violence into western sectors.’ When
Clay protested to Sokolovsky’s deputy Kotikov on 8 September the Russian
said the ‘mob’ were workers proceeding legitimately to the town hall.
The Western police had attempted to stop them. He accused the American
MPs of being drunk and disorderly. 75 In fact Sokolovsky was innocent of
the outrage, which had been organised by Tulpanov and Ulbricht off their
own bats. 76

The Westerners responded with a massive demonstration of support for
democracy before the Reichstag on 9 September. ‘On Thursday hundreds
of thousands of Berliners demonstrated on the Platz der Republik for
democratic freedom and against the shocking events at the Stadthaus . . .
women deserted their cookers, hairdressers left their clients in the lurch
under their wave machines and the newspaper-sellers closed up shop. All of
them ran thinking I must demonstrate; we belong to the West. We must
prove it.’ 77

The response had been impressive: 300,000 Germans staged an anti¬
communist rally. The Berliners were rallied by their mayor, Reuter. Before
the ruined Reichstag he told them, ‘Look at this city and admit that you
cannot abandon it!’ The city under siege became the symbol of moral re¬
naissance and contributed greatly to German rehabilitation. 78 The red flag
was torn down. Fifteen-year-old Wolfgang Scheunemann was killed and
222 people injured when the Russians fired into the crowd. The volleys
ceased, however, when the British deputy provost calmly walked over to
the Russians and pushed them away with his swagger-stick. 79 The Russians
took it out on five men they had arrested at the scene. On 9 September
these unfortunates were sentenced to twenty-five years’ hard labour. 80

Clay was slow to see the significance of the Reichstag demonstration.
He noted that a communist counter-demonstration was planned for the
Soviet sector. He seemed doubtful of the wisdom of the British in issuing
a permit for the rally. ‘The huge attendance was I am sure a great surprise
even to the Germans and led the German political leaders to inflammatory
speeches.’ Clay thought they were ‘playing with dynamite’. He saw a risk
of the whole business blowing up in their faces - such demonstrations
‘could turn into mass-meetings against the occupying powers and could
develop into the type of mob government which Hitler played so well to
get into power’. He concluded that it had set ‘a dangerous, habit-forming
precedent’. 81

Accidents continued to occur. The British crashed an Avro York on 20
September killing five, and a month later a C-54 went down in Frankfurt.

533

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

But the situation had now become static. The Allies needed to bring in a
minimum of 4,500 tons a day, though 5,500 were ideal. As it was there
were days when the tonnage reached 8,000. It was now a question of who
would back down first. ‘The airlift has been a magnificent success and can
keep us in Berlin through the winter. As long as we pursue diplomatic
means to gain a settlement the airlift adds to our prestige.’ Clay still had
acute reservations about the French and apparently had problems with the
Labour government in Britain: ‘Our difficulties with the French continue.
Neither is being in partnership with the British a bed of roses.’ 82

While the blockade was in force neither Bevin nor Marshall would
communicate with the Soviets. The Soviet foreign minister had stayed
away from the meeting of the Brussels Treaty Organisation in September.
The Western powers decided that the case would be referred to the
United Nations. 83 Soviet deputy foreign minister Andrei Vyshinsky in
New York denied the existence of a blockade or any threat to peace.
Meanwhile the Soviets were also trying their hand at propaganda by
broadcasting their own peace plans from Moscow. They offered an all-
German government, a formal peace treaty, a united Germany west of the
Oder—Neisse Line, four-power control of the Ruhr, higher industrial
output and, most important of all, higher rations. 84 The Americans, how¬
ever, had a new trick up their sleeves. They were going to win over the
children: Harry King, the president of the confectioners Huylers, had
obtained ten tons of sweets and some parachutes, and on 26 October Clay
saw the chance for some excellent propaganda. The ‘morale value would
be real if candy could be flown out’. 85 This was the cue for Operation
Little Vittles when airman Lieutenant Gail Halvorsen’s ‘Candy Bombers’
dropped packets of sweets for the children by parachute into Berlin. Some
even fell in the Eastern Sector.

The new airfield at Tegel opened on 5 November when the top brass
flew in. The French commander General Jean Ganeval thanked his work¬
ers for their ‘almost Egyptian labour’. 86 The city was suffering from TB,
with 84,000 recorded cases. By November the Magistrat was divided in
two with the Soviet Sector meeting in the Red Rathaus and the Western
sectors meeting in the town hall in Schonefeld. The situation was for¬
malised on 1 December. Clay predicted that the Berlin elections that were
due to take place on 5 December ‘will almost certainly result in a split city’.
It was a chance to take back the promise of abiding by the Soviet-inspired
Eastern mark. This would ‘necessitate immediate issue of western cur¬
rency’. Clay’s prediction came true that time. 87 As Germany polarised, so
did Berlin. In the East they elected a mayor to be the counterpart of

534

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

Reuter in the West. It was Friedrich Ebert, ‘a fat, repulsive man’ accord¬
ing to Howley, 88 who was to remain in the post for twenty years.

The process of making two Berlins was accelerated by the establishment
of a ‘Free University’ in the buildings of the old Kaiser Wilhelms
Gesellschaft in Dahlem, with General Clay’s blessing. The pretext was
provided when the Soviet-backed authorities at the Humboldt University
in the Linden had expelled three students, Otto Hess, Joachim Schwarz and
Otto Stolz, although all three were wholly above board, and Hess had the
added advantage ofjewish blood. Clay wanted the new university to open
its doors by the autumn. 89 The Allies distributed coal that December.
Each household received 18 kilos, and those with children were allocated
four times that amount. In the woods 120,000 cubic metres of trees were
felled to provide fuel. Even this largesse was hardly able to stave off the cold
of Yuletide in Berlin, and as many as 2,000 Berliners died of cold and
hunger that winter. It was second only to the winter of 1946—7.

General Ganeval brought the French glory in the long run. The an¬
tennas of the Soviet-controlled Radio Berlin posed a danger on landing
and take-off at Tegel. Ganeval decided to seize the initiative. He requested
that the directors of the radio remove the masts as being a danger to planes.
When they did nothing, Ganeval coolly blew them up at 10.45 on the
morning of 16 December. The Russian General Kotikov was furious, and
demanded to know how he could have done such a thing. The Frenchman
replied, ‘With the help of dynamite and French sappers.’ 90 The Russians
exacted their revenge by making off with the outlying village of Stolpe,
which up to then had lain in the French Sector. 91

At Christmas the SED leadership was summoned to Moscow. On his
return Pieck announced that the East was not ready to embrace popular
democracy. There were no immediate plans to create an East German
state. Stalin made it clear that it was not just the Western orientation that
needed to be fought in Germany, he wanted the Americans out. 93 In West
Berlin they had a treat in the form of a visit by Bob Hope and the aptly
named Irving Berlin. The stars performed at the Titania Palast in Steglitz.
At the end of the year electricity was pumped out between 11 p.m. and
0.30 a.m. to allow the Berliners to welcome the New Year. 93

It was in January 1949 that the diarist Speer alluded to the airlift for the
first time. He noted that the Alliance had broken down and that had led to
the blockading of the roads to Berlin: ‘day and night transport planes roar
over our building’. They were on their way to the British airfield at Gatow
near by. As they toiled in the garden, the Spandau Seven wondered what
the events meant for them. They came to the conclusion that they would

535

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

be handed back to the countries that captured them. Speer was comforted
by the idea he would be returned to the British. 94 It meant no such thing:
the only real effect it had on the men was that their wives were unable to
pay them visits because they could not reach Berlin. 95

The battle for Berlin had descended into mud-slinging. The Russians
condemned the Anglo-Americans for the barbaric bombing of Dresden.
Clay again saw the possibility of propaganda: he seemed to recall that the
bombing had been carried out ‘at the specific request of Red Army’. He
wanted to know if there were any written communications along those
lines that might be leaked. 9 * 5 On 30 March, Moscow decided that
Sokolovsky had failed and had him replaced by Vassily Chuikov. The
Western Allies had no more problems dealing with the emergency: 97 the
Russians might as well let the trains run unmolested.

George Kennan visited Berlin on 12 March that year. He went to stay
at Harnack House in Dahlem, once part of the Kaiser Wilhelms
Gesellschaft; the Americans had taken it over as a social club that mirrored
Marlborough House in the British Sector. The city was not a pretty sight.
Not only was it still ruinous, but it was dead - ‘a ghost of its former self’.
Harnack House was one of the few places that was still alive. It was ‘like a
garish honkey-tonkey that has stayed open too late in a sleepy provincial
town. It was Saturday night ... A German band was faithfully whacking
out American dance tunes which they knew by heart. The faces of the
musicians were drawn and worn . . .’ Kennan observed a major studying
the bill of fare: ‘Look what’s on de menu. Tuna fish. Tuna fish, for God’s
sake. We been feedin’ it to our dog. He don’t even like it any more. He jes’
looks at me and says: jeez, tuna fish again.’ 98

He went to see the mayor. Reuter told him, ‘this is the hardest time of
the year. Fresh food is at its lowest. The grippe season was upon them. But
morale could be maintained as long as we Americans evidenced deter¬
mination to remain.’ Kennan learned that, contrary to all appearances, the
housing situation in Berlin was far from being the worst in Germany
Berlin had lost 40 per cent of its accommodation, but it had also seen a 25
per cent drop in its population. When the airlift reached a consistent 8,000
tons a day the Russians would have to concede. That night there was a
colonial-style dinner party. The conversation addressed ‘the price of
antiques, the inadequacies of servants, and the availability of cosmetics at
the PX’. 99

During the eleven months of the airlift, Berlin had returned to wartime
conditions. There was an evening curfew, and lack of gas and electricity
obliged its inhabitants to live by candlelight and eat the dehydrated food

536

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

provided by the Western Allies. The city was deserted in the evenings and
there was no street lighting. There was no work. The Russians decided to
drop their demands for the scrapping of the new Deutsche Mark, but they
still insisted that the West cease its attempts to create a West German
state. The Russian blockade failed. The Soviet operation had been both a
waste of time and a loss of face. One recent historian has called it ‘a har¬
vest of blunders’. 100 On the night of n—12 May 1949 road traffic was
resumed. ‘Hurrah, were still alive!’ shouted the grateful Berliners, who
were driven into the arms of the West in gratitude. One of the main streets
of Berlin-Zehlendorf was renamed in Clay’s honour. The Anglo-
Americans could now congratulate themselves that they were winning the
propaganda battle for Berlin. The citizens of the former capital were turn¬
ing against communism. Even the slowest Germans now began to
understand that they were best off with the Western Allies. Not all West
Berliners, however, supported the American and British action, and
120,000 of them registered for food rations in the East. Howley dismissed
them as ‘spineless backsliders’.

The Americans celebrated in Hollywood too, where three films had
been made by December 1948. The most popular of these was The Big Lift
with Montgomery Clift. In the Berlin streets the urchins played a new
game: Airlift.

Austria

The airlift had its echoes in Austria. 101 Methods were used that were once
again reminiscent of the Berlin blockade. In April 1946, the Soviet acting
commander, L. V. Kurasov, demanded the removal of the radio-control
tower at Tulin. The main road to the airport was often closed. The
Russians caused difficulties for the British in Semmering and at the airport
in Schwechat that they shared with the French. They tried to board the
Mozart Express which linked the American Zone with the US sector in
Vienna, and which was run for the exclusive use of American personnel.
This led to an incident in the winter of 1946 when two Russian officers
boarded the train and pulled a gun on Specialist Sergeant Shirley Dixon;
Dixon replied by drawing his own gun, shooting one of the men dead and
injuring the other. The Russians were naturally furious, and demanded that
the Americans hand Dixon over for trial. The Americans refused. They
tried Dixon themselves and acquitted him. The Russians demanded a
fresh trial, but by that time Dixon was out of harm’s way. The Russians

537

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

then began to cut up the air traffic arriving and leaving Tulin, going so far
as to fire on the aircraft. General Mark Clark responded by arming the
planes coming into Tulin and informing the outgoing Soviet commander
Koniev that he had done so. Clark says there were no more incidents. 102

Contingency plans were drawn up to withdraw the Western Allied
forces to a line along the River Enns, 103 and the Western Allies considered
transferring their administrations to Salzburg. As the Cold War dawned,
Bethouart was conscious of his inferior strength when it came to resisting
the Russians. From the autumn of 1945 he possessed no more than a weak
division of mountain troops. 104 The situation was similar for the other
Western powers: for Soviet divisions you read Western battalions.
Washington and London were sceptical of the need to reinforce the armies
in Austria. London refused to countenance the idea of a Russian attack and
Washington believed the likelihood to be remote. 105 That changed once
the Soviet Union began to topple the post-war regimes in Budapest and
Prague and flex its muscles in Berlin. Bethouart was summoned to a meet¬
ing at the Hotel Matignon in Paris, attended by General Revers, chief of
the general staff, and Koenig, Bethouart’s opposite number in Berlin. The
government wanted to know how the French Zone could protect itself. As
a result mines were provided to blow up the roads in the event of a Russian
advance; there were parachute exercises in the mountains and stocks of
weapons and food were built up for use by Austrian resisters.

The Americans were also ready to fight any Soviet aggression, but the
British, who were defending the port of Trieste, were much more reluc¬
tant. On 5 August 1948 General de Lattre de Tassigy organised a conference
of the Western powers in Strasbourg, where the possibility of rearming the
Germans was voiced for the first time. 106 It was the first step towards
bringing West Germany into NATO.

There was much bandying about of accusations. Like Zhukov north of
the Inn, Koniev indicted the British for keeping the Germans under arms.
The political commissar, Colonel-General A. S. Zheltov, half in jest, focused
on factories capable of making buttons for military uniforms. The Soviet
Union could not be satisfied until Austria’s ability to make such buttons was
eliminated. The Western Allies were also dragging their feet over denazifi¬
cation. In the circumstances Austria would have to wait for freedom. 107

The Russians pointed to cases of rape and theft by American servicemen
in Vienna in October. Over a number of days the Soviet-backed Oster-
reichische Zeitung reported beatings of black American troops by their white
comrades, robberies, hold-ups and sex crimes. On 16 September
Americans were alleged to have raided a nightclub shouting ‘Niggers out!’

538

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

The US minister, John Erhardt, neither accepted nor denied the stories.
The British were not well regarded in the East either — they were accused
of collusion with anti-Tito partisans who had been engaged in armed
activity and shoot-outs on the border with Carinthia. 10 * There was some
fear that Vienna would become the victim of a full-scale blockade, but the
Americans comforted themselves with the reflection that the operation in
Germany had not been a shining success. Feeding the Viennese was also
the responsibility of the Austrian government even if there were no airfields
suitable for the use of the Western Allies within Vienna. The ructions were
many and annoying, but the situation never came close to war as it did in
Germany, and the co-operation between the four powers continued. 109

Chaos reigned too when it came to currency, with German
Reichsmarks, Occupation Schillings and Austrian National Schillings all in
circulation. None had any real purchasing power — for that you needed cig¬
arettes. The Schilling had been re-established in 1945, but its value
plummeted and in December 1947 a ‘new Schilling’ replaced it, at a value
of three old ones. Meanwhile the Allies continued to bleed the stricken
state. In 1945 the Allied armies of occupation absorbed 35 per cent of the
Austrian budget. With difficulty this was reduced to 15 in 1947. That year
the Americans dispensed with their share, but it was not until 1953 that the
other powers decided they could pay their own way. 110

The Federal Republic

On 7 April 1948 General Robertson told the members of the Nordrein-
Westfalen Landtag that they were to make the best of the western part of
Germany for the time being; ‘the rest will come in time. We offer you our
good will and co-operation.’ The effect of the speech was to hearten the
Germans. 111 Adenauer was in on the European movement from the start.
In May 1948 he was one of 800 delegates at the United Europe Congress
in The Hague. His adviser Herbert Blankenhorn would have carried with
him some of the ideas current at meetings of the Kreisau Circle during the
war, when the notion of removing borders was seen as a means of pre¬
venting future wars. Sovereignty was also to be played down — as Adenauer
himself put it, ‘to secure common political and economic action’. 112
Churchill delivered a speech at the conference and received Adenauer per¬
sonally. Adenauer had sent a message to Churchill via Frank Pakenham:
‘We were Hitler’s prisoners and but for Mr Churchill we would not be alive
today.’ He was playing the victim card again. 113

539

THE ROAD TO FREEDOM

The London Conference of the Western Allies published the London
Agreements on 7 June. It proposed the setting up of a constituent assem¬
bly, the defining of an Occupation Statute for the Allied armies and the
creation of a Ruhr authority to allocate coal and steel production. It was
typical of Adenauer that he was unconcerned about events in Berlin. The
man of the moment was Reuter. Adenauer was chiefly concerned with the
Ruhr authority, which he interpreted as an affront to German dignity. The
Versailles Treaty was ‘a bed of roses by comparison’. 114 As a recent biog¬
rapher has written, given the situation in Berlin, Adenauer’s protestations
sounded like ‘complaints about the functioning of the parish pump’." 5
More important were the meetings to decide the form of the future con¬
stitution. Documents were issued to the minister presidents of the three
Western zones. The Lander called a conference in Koblenz on 8 July
which was followed by another at Frankfurt that began on 20 July. On 10
August they met again on the Herreninsel in Lake Chiemsee. There was
little agreement between the CDU and the Bavarian CSU, and Adenauer
disliked the Bavarian party chairman, Josef‘Ochsensepp’ Muller.

On 26 July the minister presidents agreed to summon a constituent
assembly to be called the Parliamentary Council in Bonn on 1 September.
It was to be a conference of party officials, arranged proportionate to seats
in the three Landtags. Bonn was not Adenauer’s idea. He would have pre¬
ferred Koblenz, which was in the French Zone." 6 It was in Bonn that one
of the architects of the Grundgesetz or basic law came to the fore — Dr Carlo
Schmid. Schmid was the SPD’s constitutional expert and it was the job of
his committee to produce the legal foundations for post-war Germany. The
SPD scored a small victory over Adenauer, who was anxious to prevent
them from constituting a majority in the new Bundesrat, or upper house
(the lower house was to be the Bundestag). He was trying to exclude
Berlin from the body, both because of his animus against the city and
because its inclusion would mean that the SPD carried the day. The SPD,
however, succeeded in establishing that the size of the Land’s population
would decide how many delegates would go to the Bundesrat.

It was at this time that Blankenhorn entered the stage. He had been a
colleague and friend of Adam von Trott’s in the German Foreign Office,
and was well aware of the aims and ideologies of the Kreisauer. He was an
Anglophile, and fell out with Adenauer only when the latter opposed
British membership of the Common Market. Blankenhorn could do what
Adenauer could not: he could charm Allied generals and talk to journal¬
ists. Adenauer was too much of a stuffed shirt to appeal to them.

The French were distressed to see the progress being made towards a

540

THE BERLIN AIRLIFT

German government under the lead of Adenauer. Work was proceeding at
such a lick that the minister presidents of the Lander were worried about
taking the responsibility of splitting Germany in two. Not so Adenauer. He
thought Germany’s future lay in the west in the defence of Romano-
Christian culture. He knew that his bread was buttered in Paris. The
French nonetheless wanted him to slow down, and confine his attentions
to the basic law. When Clay and Robertson issued Bizonia Law 75 giving
the Germans the cue to decide the future of the Ruhr, the French uttered
a last gasp of fury embodied in a formal complaint from Schuman. 117

Despite this, Adenauer was still flirting with the French. One of the
contacts he made at the time was with Schuman. They met first in October
1948 at Bassenheim in the French-administered Pfalz, in the residence of
the governor, Hettier de Boislambert. Adenauer had no desire to let the
Anglo-Americans know of his talks and travelled to the meeting wrapped
in a blanket with his Homburg pulled down over his eyes. The Ruhr was
still a sticking point. Schuman had to go carefully. Even after 1949 the Saar
was the cause of frequent friction between the French and Adenauer. 118

The parliamentary capital had yet to be decided. Berlin was out, not just
because of Adenauer’s loathing of Prussia, but because it was behind
Russian lines and increasingly prone to Soviet intimidation. The natural
capital was Frankfurt, in that it had been a semi-independent imperial,
coronation city before 1806, and it was also the scene of the abortive
German parliament of 1848. After 1848, German liberals believed the
country had taken the wrong path — the path that led to the First World
War and the Second. It was also famously the birthplace of Goethe.
Frankfurt was the choice of the SPD. The CDU was for Bonn, a small city
associated with the archbishop of Cologne, and with the Prussian univer¬
sity founded there in 1815. Bonn was the birthplace of Beethoven. The
British decided in Bonn’s favour by offering to make it autonomous and
free from their control. Frankfurt was administratively too important for
the Americans to relinquish it. The Germans could finally be masters in
their small house.

54i

Conclusion

The policy of constraint applied by the victors brings only fragile and
misleading solutions . . . For as long as there is reason for revenge,
there will be a renewed risk of war.

Germany was never as dangerous as when she was isolated.

Robert Schuman, Pour I’Europe, 2nd edn, Paris 1964, 107, no

That means the old borders must fall and be replaced by new alliances,
and a new, bigger empire must unite the nations . . . That is the only
way to end the feud properly to everybody’s advantage.

Ernst Jiinger, Der Friede, Vienna 1949, 31

T he Soviets had failed. They had failed twice: they had neither pushed
the Western Allies out of Berlin nor forestalled the creation of a Western
German state. The stage was now set for the division of Germany into two
camps, each with its own ideologically orientated government. On 8 April
1949 the Allies in Washington decided to transform their Military
Government into an Allied High Commission, and the French agreed to join
Bizonia, briefly to be called Trizonia. On 23 May 1949 the basic law or
Grundgesetz was signed in the presence of the three Western Allied governors.
The Federal Republic was waiting in the wings. Adenauer claimed that the
Grundgesetz constituted ‘a major contribution to the reunification of the
German people’. 1 This was clearly untrue, and it is interesting to speculate
today how much Adenauer ever genuinely desired to see the family reunited.
Some maintain that Adenauer was biding his time, waiting for the East to fall
into his hands. For the time being, however, Germany east of the Elbe was
cast adrift and would not come back into harbour until 1989, twenty-two
years after Adenauer’s death.

Some would argue that Adenauer — indeed the West — was powerless to
alleviate the plight of those Germans caught behind the Iron Curtain, but this

542

CONCLUSION

is only true up to a point. There was another way: it was the solution which,
after 250 days of negotiation, resulted in the Austrian State Treaty in 1955.
The Allies then packed their bags and went home. That solution was pre¬
sented to Germany too. On 10 March 1952 Stalin made Adenauer an offer
of an armed and unified Germany. The only condition he sought to impose
was that Germany — like Austria after 1955 — should not belong to any mili¬
tary alliance. Stalin was still worried about security. Adenauer pocketed the
note. He said it contained nothing new. He thought it more important to
integrate his West German state with the West than to unite with his broth¬
ers across the Elbe. 2

The rest may be summarised. Elections in West Germany were set for 14
August 1949. Adenauer went into the lists claiming that the British were
funding the socialists, which made him more sour than ever, even if he
didn’t actually believe a word of it. The result was a hung parliament, with
the CDU/CSU winning 31 per cent of the vote and the SPD 29.2 per cent.
A coalition was inevitable. On 21 August Adenauer held a CDU coffee party
at his home in Rhondorf. The leader of the FDP, or Free Democrats,
Theodor Heuss, was to be fobbed off with the ceremonial presidency.
Adenauer pushed the CSU aside to clasp the chancellors role for himself. On

15 September it was put to a vote among the members of the Bundestag.
Adenauer secured the Chancellery by one vote — his own. Kurt Schumacher
dubbed him ‘the Allies’ Chancellor’. 3 The new Germany could now start
work. The adoption of the basic law that month ended the military occupa¬
tion of Germany.

Adenauer’s election prompted an equal and opposite move in the East. On

16 September a SED delegation arrived in Moscow to receive instructions
from the Politburo on how to cope with the creation of a ‘West German
imperialist state’ and to plan the creation of the German Democratic
Republic. It was much the same crew: Pieck, Grotewohl, Ulbricht and Fred
Oelssner on the German side, and Malenkov, Molotov, Mikoyan and
Kaganovitch on the Soviet. America was cast in the light of a colonising
power. The West German regime was to be unmasked as the organ of the
Western powers. 4

The GDR was created on 7 October not only as a response to the FRG,
but also as a result of East Germany’s abandonment by West. At the end of
1949 the Soviet regime made promises that it did not keep, among which was
an agreement to release all German POWs, and to close the camps in
Germany. At the outset there had been eleven such establishments, but this
number was now reduced to just three. At their peak the camps had contained
158,000 Germans. There were still 16,000 as 1949 turned into 1950, and the

543

CONCLUSION

camps did not finally close until after Stalins death. As a special treat the
German delegation had asked for some translations of Stalin’s speeches. The
incentive was to be rid of the SBZ, which with time the East Germans were,
although no one can argue that Moscow failed to keep them on a tight leash.

Adenauers courting of the French not only ensured their eventual support,
it had one lasting benefit: it laid the foundations for the Common Market,
or European Union as it has now become. The idea has its precursors.
Emperor William II of Germany made frequent references to the subject and
voiced a hope that it would come to fruition. It apparently derived from his
chancellor Caprivi. 5 Aristide Briand had proposed a European Federation in
1929—30 as a means of matching the might of the United States after 1918,
but the suggestion was put aside by the slump that followed the Wall Street
Crash. Robert Schuman became interested at that time as a deputy for
Lorraine in the French Assembly. 6 During the war the notion of European
unity surfaced on both sides of the Rhine. In Germany it tended to be the
left who took it up, especially some of the intellectuals in the Kreisau Circle.
Adam von Trott, for example, was keen to revive a ‘Carolingian’ Europe and
it was a conception that found echoes in the Quai d’Orsay at the end of the
war. 7

In France a union of Europe was more popular with the right, often as an
unlikely benefit that had accrued with defeat. Ernst Jiinger, who must have
encountered its champions on both sides of the Rhine, thought it a lost
opportunity that the French and Germans were not brought together on an
equal footing after the Fall of France. Writing in the middle of the war, he
saw the forging of a new ‘empire’ to be a task for the peace: ‘Can someone
like an Alsatian live as a German or a Frenchman without being forced to
turn from one to the other?’ Jiinger was also swayed by the Carolingian
idea - to build a new empire that would be as strong as its rivals. 8 His
thoughts were not far from those of Schuman.

De Gaulle too took up the banner in September 1943, when he spoke of
Europe’s ‘common identity’. The first task was to remove customs barriers.
The plans were more elaborately worked out by the French radical politician
Rene Mayer in a memorandum of 30 September 1943. He called for an
‘economic federation’ centred on France and taking in Benelux and
‘Rhenania’ (the German territories bordering the Rhine), and possibly Italy
and Spain too. 9 Jean Monnet, the head of the French General Planning
Committee, put forward a line of argument similar to that of Helmuth James
von Moltke: there would be ‘no peace in Europe if states re-establish them¬
selves on the basis of national sovereignty ... To enjoy . . . prosperity and

544

CONCLUSION

social progress . . . the states of Europe must form ... a “European Entity”,
which will make them a single European unit.’ 10 For Schuman, a fragmen¬
tary Europe was anachronistic. The resources of individual states were not
enough, as France discovered after the war: they needed German coal. The
solidarity of nations should be greater than ‘outworn nationalism’. 11

The European idea even found a few champions in Britain. Victor
Gollancz warned of the dangers of an isolated, dismembered Germany: ‘A
federal Europe, a hundred times yes; an atomized Germany in an un-
federalised Europe, danger and folly.’ 12 Sir Robert Birley, headmaster of
Eton, and the man who had been chosen to shape education policy in the
British Zone, looked forward to European Union in his 1949 Reith Lectures,
and for much the same reason — sovereignty needed to be sacrificed to col¬
lective security. 13 And Britain was present as the first steps were taken towards
union. It was one of the signatories of the Western European Union on 17
March 1948 and of the Adantic Pact a year later, even if it fell by the wayside
before the Treaty of Rome established the Common Market in March 1957.

De Gaulle found the notion of embracing the whole of German territory
in French plans too ambitious. He focused his attention on westward-looking
‘Rhenania’, and Adenauer was cunning enough to sell him a Germany that
was just that. 14 Indeed, Adenauer was also keen to play the Carolingian
card, based on France and Germany’s common Frankish inheritance. The
new Germany based in Bonn would defend Romano-Christian culture
from — guess who? The Slavs. 15

Germany’s experience of post-war bloodletting was not an isolated one. In
the wake of the Second World War there was imprisonment, trial and retri¬
bution — des rendements de comptes — all over the world. In 1956 Margret
Boveri estimated that as many as half a million French people had been
arrested after the war, resulting in 160,000 trials. In Belgium the number of
investigations was as high was 600,000, in Holland 130,000. Even in America,
570 federal officials were dismissed and 2,748 resigned during Truman’s
term; another 8,000 were sacked by Eisenhower. In England they hanged
Lord Haw Haw and John Amery, and branded up to 10,000 people with
‘legitimate doubt’. 16

The question arises whether the Allies achieved what they desired. The
war horses on the American side had their doubts. The Cold War showed
them that they had not defeated the enemy — Germany was not the enemy
any more. That was the Soviet Union. For Patton or Mark Clark it had been
a botched job. Clark wrote: We had not won the war. We had stopped too
soon. We had been too eager to go home. We welcomed the peace, but after

545

CONCLUSION

more years of effort and expenditure we found that we had won no peace.’ 17
America had succeeded elsewhere, however. It was able to shove the ailing
Great Britain aside and assume the leadership of the Western world. The days
of the Raj and the rest of the British Empire were numbered. British India
was over even before the signing of the Grundgesetz. Britain would be
encouraged to drop its pretensions to power and follow at the American heel.

The Russians had been checked at the Elbe, but they had the security
Stalin craved, and it was thirty-five years after Stalins death before their
European empire finally tottered and fell. The most surprising victors of the
peace were the French, who started right at the back yet finished by realis¬
ing all their war aims. For the Poles and the Czechs it proved bitter-sweet:
they had their national states without the dangers presented by racial minor¬
ities, but they had communism, and Soviet Russia squatting on their national
aspirations.

And what did the Germans gain from the peace? The Allies had helped
them ‘throw the baby out with the bathwater’ in what was an often mis¬
guided desire to dig out the roots of the evil. They promoted an idea of
Germany’s past as ‘another country’ which became enshrined in Jurgen
Habermas’s dictum that ‘history begins at Auschwitz’. They were well rid of
Adolf Hitler and his cronies, who had led them to ruin and besmirched their
name for all time. They gained stability created by a monetary reform which
ushered in a new era of prosperity.

The Germans didn’t want to know their sullied history. Weary of the past
they began to take pleasure in the destruction of their towns. Those few
towns and villages in Germany and Austria that had emerged unscathed were
ripped down all the same in the 1950s and 1960s: the past had to go, to be
replaced by an anodyne notion of comfort and prosperity. The myth of zero
hour was taken to all their hearts. The perceptive writer Alfred Doblin
noticed this tendency as early as 1946. For the time being there was little
construction going on. Commerce thrived in the ruins. The people made no
bones about the state of Germany: ‘They are not depressed by the destruc¬
tion; they see it rather as an intense spur to work. I am convinced that, if they
had the means they lack, they would rejoice tomorrow that all their out¬
moded, badly laid-out conurbations had been knocked flat giving them the
opportunity now to build something first class and wholly contemporary.’ 18

The west was patched up quickly; buildings went up here there and
everywhere to replace those destroyed in the war. A vast ugliness replaced the
ruins. If they were allowed to, they could finally forget the blood they had
spilled, and concentrate on the birth of the new Germany, which they had
watered with their own.

546

Notes

PREFACE

1 A. J. Nicholls, Weimar and the Rise of
Hitler, 3rd edn. London 1991, 136—7.

2 Quoted in Ernst jiinger, Jahre der
Okkupation, Stuttgart 1958, 130.

INTRODUCTION

1 Gerhard Ziemer, Deutsche Exodus:
Vertreihung und Eingliederung von 15
Millionen Ostdeutsche, Stuttgart 1973,
94. Ziemer s figures are based on
those published by the Statischen
Bundesamt in Wiesbaden in 1958.

2 See also Manfred Rauchensteiner,
‘Das Jahrzehnt der Besatzung als
Epoche in der Osterreichischer
Geschichte’, in Alfred Ableitinger,
Siegfried Beer and Eduard G.
Staudinger, eds, Osterreich unter alli-
ieter Besatzung — 1945—1955, Vienna,
Cologne and Graz 1998, 18—19.

3 Alfred Doblin, Schicksalsreise, Bericht
und Bekenntnisse, Frankfurt/Main
1949, 420—2.

4 Heinrich Boll, Kreuz ohne Liehe,
Cologne 2003, 285—6.

5 Robert Jan van Pelt and Deborah
Dwork, Auschwitz, 1270 to the Present,
New Haven and London 1996, 10.

6 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin,
introduced by C. W. Ceram and
translated by James Stern, London
1965, 139 -

7 Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the

European Jews, 3rd edn, London and
New Haven 2003, III, 1138.

8 David Blackbourn s The Conquest of
Nature, London 2005, sees early Nazi
tendencies in the desire to control
Germany’s waterways.

9 Michael Balfour and John Mair, Four
Power Control in Germany and Austria
1945—1946, Oxford 1956, 28.

10 Ibid., 15.

11 Eugene Davidson, The Death and Life
of Germany — An Account of the
American Occupation, 2nd edn,
Columbia, Miss. 1999, 6—7.

Davidson possibly means Adam von
Trott, who arrived in America in
September 1939 — see Giles
MacDonogh, A Good German: Adam
von Trott zu Solz, revised edn,

London 1994, 307—19. It was
Roosevelt who told J. Edgar Hoover
to have him closely followed: the
president considered Trott a threat to
national security.

12 Curtis F. Morgan, Jnr , James F. Byrnes,
Lucius Clay, and American Policy in
Germany, 1945—1947, Lewiston,
Queenston and Lampeter 2002, 2, 5.

13 Henric Wuermeling, Doppelspiel:
Adam von Trott zu Solz im Widerstand
gegen Hitler, Munich 2004, 142—4.

14 Davidson, Death and Life, 5; Balfour
and Mair, Four Power Control, 34.

15 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
30-1, 36.

16 Ibid., 34; Paul W. Gulgowski, ‘The
American Military Government of

547

NOTES

United States Occupied Zones of
Post World War II Germany in
Relation to Policies Expressed by its
Civilian Governmental Authorities at
Home, During the Course of
1944/1945 through 1949’ (doctoral
dissertation, Frankfurt University)
Frankfurt/Main 1983, 22.

17 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
18.

18 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 8—9.

19 Ibid., 7.

20 Ibid., 15.

21 Hermann Graml, Die Alliierten und
die Teilung Deutschlands. Konflikte und
Entscheidungen 1941—1948,
Frankfurt/Main 1985, 27, 60.

22 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 41; Graml,
Teilung Deutschlands, 53, 56.

23 Norman M. Naimark, The Russians
in Germany — A History of the Soviet
Zone of Occupation, 1945—1949,
Cambridge, Mass, and London 1995,
9; Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 52—3.

24 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 76.

25 John W. Young, France, the Cold War
and the Western Alliance, 1944—49:
French Foreign Policy and Post-War
Europe, Leicester and London 1990,

26 Vojtech Mastny, The Cold War and
Soviet Insecurity, New York and
Oxford 1996, 17.

27 Ibid., 19.

28 Oliver Rathkolb, ‘Historische
Fragmente in die “unendliche
Geschichte” von den Sowjetische
Absichte in Osterreich’, in
Ableitinger et al., Osterreich unter alli-
ierter Besatzung, 139—42, passim.

29 Jean-Pierre Rioux, ‘France 1945:

L’Ambition allemande et ses moyens’,
in Klaus Manfrass and Jean-Pierre
Rioux, eds, France-Allemagne
1944—1947, Les Cahiers de l’lnstitut
d’Histoire du Temps Present,
December 1989—January 1990/Akten
des deutsch-franzosisch
Historikerkolloquiums, Baden-

Baden, 2—5 December 1986, 37.

30 Ibid., 15.

31 Ibid., 25.

32 Ibid., 40.

33 Ibid., 26.

34 Ibid., 28.

35 James F. Byrnes, Speaking Frankly,
London 1947, 25.

36 Rioux, ‘France 1945’, 40—1.

37 Ibid., 49.

38 Ibid., 50—1.

39 Klaus-Dietmar Henke, ‘Der Weg
nach Potsdam — Die Alliierten und
die Vertreibung’, in Wolfgang Benz,
ed., Die Vertreibung der Deutschen aus
dem Os ten. Ursachen, Ereignisse,

Folgen, Frankfurt/Main 1985, 51—2,
55-6.

40 Andreas Lawaty, Das Ende Preussens in
polnischer Sicht. Zur kontinuitat nega-
tiver Wirkungen der preussischen
Geschichte auf die deutsch—polnischen
Beziehungen, Berlin and New York
1986, 56—7.

41 Ibid., 100.

42 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 29—30.

43 Detlef Brandes, ‘Die Exilpolitik von
Edvard Benes 1939—1945’, in Arnold
Suppan and Elisabeth Vyslonzil, eds,
Edvard Benes und die tschecho-
slowakische Aussenpolitik 1918—1948,
2nd edn, Frankfurt/Main, Berlin,
Bern, Brussels, New York, Oxford
and Vienna 2003, 159.

44 Ibid., 160.

45 Ibid., 161.

46 Manfred Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz
4: Osterreich unter alliieter Besatzung,
Vienna 2005, 7—8.

47 Quoted in General Bethouart, Ea
Bataille pour VAutriche, Paris 1966, 15.

48 Quoted in ibid., 16.

49 Ibid., 10.

50 Otto von Habsburg, Ein Kampf um
Osterreich 1958—1945, Aufgezeichnet
von Gerhard Totschinger, Vienna
and Munich 2001, 26, 69.

51 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 14.

52 Ibid., 12.

548

NOTES

53 Charmian Brinson, ‘Ein “Sehr
Ambitioniertes Projekt” — Die
Anfange des Austrian Centre’, in
Marietta Bearman et al.,

Wien—London, hin und retour: Das
Austrian Centre in London 1979 bis
1947, Vienna 2004, 15.

54 Marietta Bearman, ‘Das kommende
Osterreich. Die Planung fur ein
Nachkriegs-Osterreich’, in Bearman
et al., Wien—London, 222.

55 Ibid., 207.

56 Ibid., 212

57 Ibid., 207—8.

58 See Helene Maimann, Politik im
Wartesaal, Vienna, Cologne and Graz
1975 and E C. West, Zuriick oder nicht
zuriick?, London 1942.

59 Brinson, ‘Ein “Sehr Ambitioniertes
Projekt”, 22—3.

60 Anthony Grenville, ‘Zeit der
Priifung, Zeit der taten, Zeit des
Triumphes und der Illusionen — Die
politische Tatigkeit des Austrian
Centre’, in Bearman et al.,

Wien—London, 29.

61 Ibid., 47.

62 Eden to Ralph Murray, 10
September 1942, kindly communi¬
cated by Johannes Popper von
Podhragy; see also Peter Gosztony,
Endkampf an der Donau 1944/1947,,
Vienna, Munich and Zurich 1969,
209.

63 FAM, untitled document of 15
March 1943, communicated by
Johannes Popper von Podhragy.

64 Grenville, ‘Zeit der Priifung’, 37.

65 Ibid., 35, 37, 38.

66 Ibid., 40.

67 Ibid., 41.

68 Ibid., 42.

69 Ibid., 43-4, 48.

70 Ibid., 49.

71 Charmian Brinson, ‘Die “Robinson
Crusoes” von Paddington und die
Briten. Die Beziehungen zwischen
Austrian Centre, Free Austrian
Movement und den britischen

Gastgebern’, in Bearman et al.,

Wien—London, 180, 181.

72 Ibid., 184.

73 See Christiane Maasburg, ‘Nikolas
Maasburgs Rolle im Widerstand und
bei der Wiederherstellung eines
unabhangigen Osterreich’
(Diplomarbeit zur Erlangung des
Magistergrades der Philosophic,
University of Vienna 1996); Henrik
Eberle and Matthias Uhl, eds, Das
Buck Hitler, Bergisch Gladbach 2004,
335 and n.

74 Rathkolb, ‘Historische Fragmented
142-5, 156-7.

75 Grenville, ‘Zeit der Priifung', 48, 52.

CHAPTER 1: THE FALL
OF VIENNA

1 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 77—8,
9 i-

2 Ibid., 73.

3 Ibid., 71; Klaus Dieter Mulley,
‘Aspekte Sowjetische Besatzung in
Nieder Osterreich’, in Ableitinger et
al., eds, Osterreich unter alliierter
Besatzung, 387.

4 Giles MacDonogh, Prussia — The
Perversion of an Idea, London 1994,
384; Naimark, Russians in Germany,
9 i-

5 Adolf Scharf, Osterreichs
Wiederaufrichtung im Jahr 1945, Vienna
i960, 29, 31.

6 Ibid., 7.

7 Ibid., 33.

8 Alois Brusatti, ed., Zeuge der Stunde
Null, das Tagebuch Eugen Margarethas
1947—1947, revised by Hildegard
Hemetsberger-Koller, Vienna 1990,
24.

9 Ibid., 28, 39.

10 Mulley, ‘Aspekte Sowjetische
Besatzung’, 376.

11 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 22—3;
Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 18.

12 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 29.

549

NOTES

13 Josef Schoner, Wiener Tagebuch, ed.
Eva-Marie Csaky, Franz Matscher
and Gerald Stourzh, Vienna,

Cologne and Weimar 1990, 136.

14 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 33.

15 Oliver Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und
Politik am Beginn der zweiten
Republik — vertrauliche Berichte der US-
Militaradministration aus Osterreich 1945
in englischer Originalfassung, Vienna,
Cologne and Graz 1985, 158; Scharf,
Wiederaufrichtung, 24—5.

16 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 29.

17 Schoner, Tagebuch, 137—8.

18 Giles MacDonogh, The Wine and
Food of Austria, London 1992, 19.

19 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 25.

20 Ibid., 19—20.

21 Carl Szokoll, Die Rettung Wiens,
Vienna 2001, 291.

22 Schoner, Tagebuch, 138—9.

23 Schoner, Tagebuch, 140.

24 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 23.

25 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 52, 61.

26 Schoner, Tagebuch, 162.

27 Willy Prinz von Thurn und Taxis,
‘Memoiren’, unpublished MS in the
possession of Princess Daria von
Thurn und Taxis, Munich, 19—20, 24.

28 Ibid., 162—3.

29 Wolfgang Mueller, Die sowjetische
Besatzung in Osterreich 1945—1955 und
ihre politische Mission, Vienna 2005,
82—4; Christiane Maasburg,

‘Nikolaus Maasburg’, 72—3, 75, 77.

30 Schoner, Tagebuch, 141—2;
Margaretha, Tagebuch, 32.

31 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 31.

32 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 25.

33 Schoner, Tagebuch, 144.

34 Ibid., 145.

35 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 33; Scharf,
Wiederaufrichtung, 20.

36 Schoner, Tagebuch, 147, 172.

37 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 35; Schoner,
Tagebuch, 148.

38 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 25;

Schoner, Tagebuch, 148—9, 169.

39 Schoner, Tagebuch, 150—2.

40 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 32.

41 Ibid., 35, 39, 50.

42 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 37.

43 Ibid., 45-6.

44 Ibid., 58.

45 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
154—8; Rathkolb, ‘Historische
Fragmente’, 147.

46 Schoner, Tagebuch, 165.

47 Ibid., 153-4.

48 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 42.

49 Schoner, Tagebuch, 158—60, 171.

50 Ibid., 164.

51 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 42—3, 48.

52 Ibid., 44—5.

53 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 52, 57.

54 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 46.

55 Schoner, Tagebuch, 165—6;
Margaretha, Tagebuch, 42.

56 Schoner, Tagebuch, 167, 175.

57 Ibid., 181.

58 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 17.

59 Gordon Brook-Shepherd, The
Austrians — A Thousand-Year Odyssey,
London 1996, 377—8.

60 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 20.

61 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
115-17.

62 Schoner, Tagebuch, 182—3.

63 Ibid., 184.

64 Grenville, ‘Zeit der Priifung’, 60.

65 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 60.

66 Schoner, Tagebuch, 191—2.

67 Ibid., 201; Rauchensteiner,

Stalinplatz 4, 27.

68 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
114.

69 Ibid., 201—2; Scharf,

Wiederaufrichtung, 27, 89;
Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 21.

70 Schoner, Tagebuch, 205; Scharf,
Wiederaufrichtung, 87.

71 Siegfried Beer, ‘Niederosterreich
unter der Roten Armee’, in Ernst
Bezemek and Willibald Rossner, eds,
Niederosterreich 1945 — Sudmahren
1945, Vienna 1996, 140.

72 Bethouart, Bataille, 19.

73 Schoner, Tagebuch, 217—18.

550

NOTES

74 Ibid., 225.

75 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 67—8.

76 Ibid., 233.

CHAPTER 2: WILD TIMES:

A PICTURE OF LIBERATED

CENTRAL EUROPE IN 1945

1 Ursula von Kardorff, Berliner
Aufzeichnungen 1942—1945, new,
unabridged edn, Munich 1994, 346.

2 Hans Graf von Lehndorff,
Ostpreussisches Tagebuch:
Aufzeichnungen eines Arztes aus den

Jahren 1945—1947, Munich 1961, 11.

3 Josef Henke, ‘Exodus aus
Ostepreussen und Schlesien: Vier
Erlebnisberichte’, in Benz, Die
Vertreibung, 93.

4 MacDonogh, Prussia, 380—1; Eberle
and Uhl, eds, Das Buch Hitler,

312-13.

5 Henke, ‘Exodus’, 95.

6 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 67—8.

7 Ibid., 68.

8 Ibid., 71, 75.

9 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 73.
(The translation is by Robert
Conquest.)

10 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 70.

11 Ibid., 71, 77.

12 Ibid., 68, 72.

13 Ibid, 79—80.

14 Ibid., 85.

15 Fritz Gause, Die Geschichte der Stadt
Konigsberg in Preussen, 3 vols,
Cologne and Vienna 1965—71, III,
172.

16 Marianne Peyinghaus, Stille Jahre in
Gertlauken — Erinnerungen an
Ostpreussen, Berlin 1985, 90; Giles
MacDonogh, review of The Amber
Room by Catherine Scott-Clark and
Adrian Levy in Literary Review, June
2004.

17 Gause, Konigsberg, III, I70n.

18 Ibid., 171.

19 Henke, ‘Exodus’, 97—9.

20 Ibid., 100—1.

21 Gause, Konigsberg, III, 171.

22 Christian von Krockow, The Hour of
the Women, translated by Krishna
Winton, London and Boston 1991,
67, 86.

23 Kathe von Normann, Ein Tagebuch
aus Pommern, Munich 1987, 16.

24 Ibid., 16—17.

25 Ibid., 18—19.

26 Ibid., 21, 252.

27 Ibid., 26.

28 Carl Tighe, Gdansk — National
Identity in the Polish—German
Borderlands, London and Concord
1990, 194.

29 Ibid., 195; Hilberg, Destruction, III,
1053-

30 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1052.

31 Nikolaus Wachsmann, Hitler’s Prisons:
Legal Terror in Nazi Germany, New
Haven and London 2004, 324—5.

32 Brewster Chamberlin and Marcia
Feldman, eds, The Liberation of the
Concentration Camps 1945: Eyewitness
Accounts of the Liberation, with an
introduction by Robert H. Abzug,
Washinton DC 1987, 91.

33 Wachsmann, Hitler’s Prisons, 327—8.

34 Tighe, Gdansk, 197—8.

35 Gunter Grass, Die Blechtrommel,
Darmstadt and Neuwied 1988, 485.

36 Giles MacDonogh, ‘Do Mention the
War’, Financial Times Magazine, 1
November 2002.

37 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1049—51.

38 Johannes Kaps, ed., Die Tragodie
Schlesiens 1945/46 in Dokumente —
unter besonderer Berucksichtigung des
Erzbishoftums Breslau, Munich
1952-3, 50-1.

39 Edward N. Petersen, Russian
Commands and German Resistance: The
Soviet Occupation, 1945—1949, New
York 1999, 224.

40 Norman Davies and Roger
Moorhouse, Microcosm: Portrait of a
Central European City, London 2002,
408.

551

NOTES

41 Herbert Hupka, ed., Letzte Tage in
Schlesien: Tagebiicher, Erinnerungen und
Dokumente der Vertreibung, Munich
and Vienna 1982, 12.

42 Ibid., 50.

43 Ibid., 51.

44 Ibid., 53, 55.

45 Wachsmann, Hitler’s Prisons, 332.

46 Michal Chilczuk in Chamberlain and
Feldman, eds, Liberation, 27—8.

47 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1055.

48 Margret Boveri, Tage des Uberlebens,
Frankfurt/Main 1996, 163.

49 Ibid., 167.

50 Ruth Andreas Friedrich, Schauplatz
Berlin, Frankfurt/Main 1985, 60.

51 Saul K. Padover, Psychologist in
Germany — The Story of an American
Intelligence Officer, London 1946, 134.

52 Ibid., 218.

53 Ibid., 280—1; Kurt Buchholz, ‘Die
ersten Amis sagten freundlich
“Hello”, Wiesbadener Tagblatt, 25
April 2005, kindly communicated by
Frau Gertrud Loewe.

54 Missie Vassiltchikov, Berlin Diaries,
London 1985, 290, 294.

55 Ibid., 294.

56 Elena Skrjabina, The Allies on the
Rhine 1945—1950, translated by
Norman Luxenburg, with a foreword
by Harrison Salisbury, Carbondale
and Edwardsville 1980, 9—13.

57 Ibid., 17.

58 Ibid., 17, 29-30, 39, 41.

59 Carl Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht
fur das Kriegsministerium der Vereinigten
Staaten von Amerika, edited by
Gunther Nickel, Johanna Schron and
Hans Wagener, Gottingen 2004, 18,
70.

60 Ibid., 69.

61 Ernst Wiechert, fahre und Zeiten —
Erinnerungen, Munich and Vienna
1989, 408.

62 Ibid., 410.

63 Quoted in Mary Fulbrook, The
People’s State: East German Society from
Hitler to Honecker, New Haven and

London 2005, 26.

64 Abraham J. Peck, ‘Befreit und erneut
in Lagern: jiidische DPs’, in Walter
H. Pehle, ed., DerJudenpogrom 1938 —
Von der Reichskristallnacht’ zum
Volkermord, Frankfurt/ Main 1988,
204-5.

65 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 316 n. 4,
which gives the uncorrected text
from the diary.

66 Ibid., 317.

67 Ibid., 329, 331.

68 Ibid., 318.

69 Ibid., 322 and n. 2.

70 Ibid., 319—20.

71 Robert H. Abzug, Inside the Vicious
Heart — Americans and the Liberation of
Nazi Concentration Camps, New York
and Oxford 1985, 80.

72 Paul Berber, Dachau 1933—1945 — The
Official History, London 1975, 183.

73 Ibid., 89—93; Michael Selzer,
Deliverance Day: The Last Hours at
Dachau, London 1980, 188—9. The
latter is an unsatisfying book in that it
conceals the identity of the intervie¬
wees and creates conglomerate
characters. There are also large
chunks of dialogue.

74 Ibid., 198, 201, 204; Abzug, Vicious
Heart, 94-5.

75 Chamberlain and Feldman, eds,
Liberation, 32.

76 Berber, Dachau, 199.

77 Ibid.

78 Wachsmann, Hitler’s Prisons, 330.

79 Brigitte Hamann, Winifred Wagner —
A Life at the Heart of Hitler’s Bayreuth,
translated by Alan Bance, London
2005, 405.

80 Walter Ludde-Neurath, Regierung
Donitz. Die letzten Tage des Dritten
Reiches, Gottingen 1951, 86.

81 Lutz Schwerin von Krosigk,

Memoiren, Stuttgart 1977, 242—4.

82 Ibid., 245.

83 Liidde-Neurath, Regierung Donitz,

95-

84 Ibid., 98.

552

NOTES

85 Karl Donitz, Mein Wechselvolles Leben,
Zurich, Berlin and Frankfurt 1968,
210; Reimer Hanse, Das Ende des
Dritten Reiches. Die deutsche
Kapitulation, 1945, Stuttgart 1966,

194.

86 Douglas Botting, In the Ruins of the
Reich, London 2005, 138—40.

87 Hanse, Kapitulation, 196—8.

88 Boveri, Tage, 153.

89 Charles Whiting, Finale at Flensburg.
The Race to the Baltic — The British
Army’s Fast Campaign, London 1966,
152.

90 Hanse, Kapitulation, 186.

91 Ibid., 192.

92 Marlis Steinert, Capitulation 1945: The
Story of the Donitz Regime, translated
by Richard Barry, London 1969, 275,
277.

93 Leonard Mosely, Report from
Germany, London 1945, 103.

94 Whiting, Finale at Flensburg, 150.

95 Ibid., 153.

96 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,

251.

97 Liidde-Neurath, Regierung Donitz,

113-14.

98 Whiting, Finale at Flensburg, 160.

99 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,

252.

100 Boveri, Tage, 152.

101 Whiting, Finale at Flensburg, 168.

102 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,

252.

103 Steinert, Capitulation 1945, 280.

104 Whiting, Finale at Flensburg, 168.

105 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,

253 -

106 Steinert, Capitulation 1945, 281.

107 Liidde-Neurath, Regierung Donitz,
123.

108 Botting, Ruins, 140— 1.

109 Elisabeth Ruge, ed., Charlotte Grafin
von der Schulenburg zur Erinnerungen,
Hamburg 1992, 70—90 passim.

nojiinger, Okkupation, 11, 17.
hi Ibid., 19.

112 Ibid., 28.

113 Ibid., 32-4.

114 Ibid., 48—9.

115 Herzogin Viktoria Luise, Ein Leben
als Tochter des Kaisers, Gottingen
1965, 320-4.

116 Friedrich Wilhelm Prinz von
Preussen, Das Haus Hohenzollern
1918—1945, Munich and Vienna 1985,
247.

117 Ben Shepherd, After Daybreak — The
Liberation ofBelsen, 1945, London
2005, 8.

118 Eberle and Uhl, eds, Das Buch Hitler,
348 .

119 Shepherd, After Daybreak, 42.

120 Ibid., 41.

121 Susanne Kirkbright: Karl Jaspers —

A Biography, Navigations in Truth,
New Haven and London 2004,
187-8.

122 Ibid., 190, 192.

123 Richard von Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten:
Erinnerungen, Berlin 1997, 95—6.

124 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 410.

125 Jiinger, Okkupation, 202.

126 F. Roy Willis, The French in Germany
1945—1949, Stanford 1962, 16—17.

127 Fran9ois-George Dreyfus, ‘Les
Dernieres Operations militaires
fran^aises et l’avenir des relations
Franco-Allemandes’, in Manfrass and
Rioux, eds, France—Allemagne, 13.

128 Hans Rommel, Vor zehn Jahren.

16/17 April 1945: Wie es zur
Zerstorung von Freudenstadt gekommen
ist, Freudenstadt 1955, 27.

129 Ibid., 26.

130 Hans Joachim Harder, ‘Militarische
Operationen in der Endphase des
Krieges: die deutsche Sicht’, in
Manfrass and Rioux, eds,

France—Allemagne, 31.

131 R. F. Keeling, Gruesome Harvest,
Chicago 1947, 57.

132 Ibid., 56-7.

133 Harder, ‘Militarishe Operationen’,

32 .

134 Willis, The French in Germany, 18.

135 Petra Weber, Carlo Schmid,

553

NOTES

i8g6—igyg. Eine Biographie, Munich
1996, 191—2.

136 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 397.

137 Ibid., 397 - 9 -

138 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1050.

139 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 105.

140 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
39 -

141 Ibid., 24—5.

142 Ibid., 41—3.

143 Bethouart, Bataille, 51—2.

144 The full list is reproduced in Josef
Muller, Bis zur letzten Konsequenz:

Ein Leben fur Frieden und Freiheit,
Munich 1975, 364—7.

145 Ibid., 267; Kurt von Schuschnigg,
Austrian Requiem, translated by Franz
von Hildebrand, New York 1946,
286.

146 Ibid., 288.

147 Ibid., 270.

148 Ibid., 271.

149 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 3—5.

150 Peck, ‘Jiidische DPs’, 201.

151 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 31—3.

152 Ibid., 203.

153 Ibid.

154 Lewis Weinstein witnessed his vomit¬
ing: see Chamberlain and Feldman,
eds, Liberation, 46.

155 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 26—30.

156 Padover, Psychologist, 284.

157 Volker Mauersberger, Hitler in
Weimar — Der Fall einer deutschen
Kulturstadt, Berlin 1999, 295—300;
Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1051; Eberle
and Uhl, eds, Das Buck Hitler, 348;
Berber, Dachau, 182.

158 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1055.

159 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 49, 52.

160 Schoner, Tagebuch, 178.

161 Quoted in Mauersberger, Hitler, 296.

162 Ibid., 300.

163 Padover, Psychologist, 293—6.

164 Ibid., 293—4.

165 Peterson, Russian Commands, 331.

166 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 72.

167 Ibid., 74, 78.

168 Ibid., 80; Marianne Gunther:

Peyinghaus, Stille Jahre in Gertlauken,
206.

169 Peyinghaus, Stille Jahre in Gertlauken,
217.

170 Tisa Hess Schulenburg, The First
Days and the Last, London 1948, 25.

171 Ibid., 26.

172 Ibid., 27.

173 Tisa von der Schulenburg, Ich hab’s
gewagt — Bildhauerin und Ordensfrau —
ein unkonventionelles Leben, Freiburg
im Breisgau 1981, 177.

174 Abzug, Vicious Heart, 62, 68.

175 Schulenburg, Ich hab’s gewagt, 181.

176 Jenny Williams, More Lives than One:
A Biography of Hans Fallada, London
1998, 245.

177 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 360—2.

178 Joseph Goebbels, Tagebiicher ig45 —
Die letzten Aufzeichnungen, Hamburg
1977, 442; Padover, Psychologist, 200.

179 Beer, ‘Niederosterreich’, 136.

180 Jean Edward Smith, ed., The Papers of
Lucius D. Clay: Germany ig45~ 1 g4g,
Bloomington and London 1974, I,

47 -

181 Carl Zuckmayer, ‘Jugend in
Niemandsland’, in Deutschlandbericht,
228—34; Krockow, Hour of the Women,
IS-

182 Wilhelm Turnwald, ed., Dokumente
dur Austreibung der Sudetendeutschen,
Munich 1951, 152.

183 Fritz Lowenthal, Der neue Geist von
Potsdam, Hamburg 1948, 118.

184 Ernst von Salomon, The Answers — to
the 131 Questions in the Allied
Military Government ‘Fragebogen’,
preface by Goronwy Rees, translated
by Constantine Fitzgibbon, London
1954, 410.

185 James Stern, Hidden Damage, London

1990, 318.

186 Werner Schwipps, Die Konigl. Hof-
und Garnisonkirche zu Potsdam, Berlin

1991, 100—1.

187 Ibid., 104; Hilberg, Destruction, III,
1180.

554

NOTES

CHAPTER 3: BERLIN

1 G. Zhukov, Reminiscences and
Reflections of the Marshal of the Soviet
Union, 2 vols, Moscow 1985, II, 383.

2 Ibid., 392, 394.

3 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 20.

4 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 396.

5 Quoted in Alexandra Ritchie, Faust’s
Metropolis — A History of Berlin,
London 1998, 606.

6 Boveri, Tage, 106—8.

7 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 86.

8 Ibid., 44.

9 Botting, Ruins, 87.

10 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 14.

11 Boveri, Tage, 123.

12 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 63.

13 Nicolas Nabokov, Old Friends and
New Music, London 1951, 211.

14 Boveri, Tage, 246.

15 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 42.

16 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 21.

17 Boveri, Tage, 128.

18 Ibid., 128—9.

19 Cyril Buffet, Berlin, Paris 1993, 359.

20 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 46.

21 Ibid., 53-4.

22 Boveri, Tage, 120.

23 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin,
46-7.

24 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 22.

25 Ibid., 24.

26 Eberle and Uhl, eds, Das Buch Hitler,
411.

27 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 50,
123, 134 -

28 Boveri, Tage, 129.

29 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 70.

30 Boveri, Tage, 254.

31 Ibid.

32 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 82.

33 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 77.

34 Ibid., 145.

35 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 35.

36 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin,
60-1.

37 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 14, 16.

38 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 144,

150, 186.

39 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 22.

40 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 80,

83, 150.

41 Boveri, Tage, 245.

42 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 124.

43 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 94.

44 Ritchie, Faust’s Metropolis, 617.

45 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 131.

46 Ritchie, Faust’s Metropolis, 616.

47 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 358.

48 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 26.

49 Kay Summersby, Eisenhowever was my
Boss, Watford 1949, 230.

50 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 397—401.

51 Hedda Adlon, Hotel Adlon — Das
Berliner Hotel in dem die grosse Welt zu
Gast war, Munich 1997, 315; Peter
Auer, Adlon, Berlin, Berlin 1997, 217.

52 Wolfgang Leonhard, Child of the
Revolution, translated by C. M.
Woodhouse, introduction by Gunter
Minnerup, London 1979, 287.

53 Ibid., 311-12.

54 Ibid., 299.

55 Ibid., 315.

56 Ibid.

57 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 253,
292.

58 Dietrich Staritz, Geschichte der DDR,
Erweitete Ausgabe, Frankfurt/Main
1996, 273; Buffet, Berlin, 366.

59 Leonhard, Revolution, 303.

60 Ibid., 315—16; George Clare, Berlin
Days 1946—1947, London 1989, 30—2.

61 Peterson, Russian Commands, 44—5.

62 Golo Mann, The History of Germany
since 1789, Harmondsworth 1987,

817.

63 Leonhard, Revolution, 306.

64 Ibid., 326.

65 Ibid., 332, 337.

66 Buffet, Berlin, 358.

67 Boveri, Tage, 133.

68 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 36.

69 Davidson, Death and Life, 74—6.

70 Ritchie, Faust’s Metropolis, 609—10.

71 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 135.

72 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 106.

555

NOTES

73 Buffet, Berlin, 363—4.

74 Clare, Berlin Days, 47.

75 Ruth Gay, Safe among the Germans:
Liberated Jews after World War II, New
Haven and London 2002, 111—12,
151.

76 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 12—13,

15-

77 Ibid., 27, 38, 84.

78 Boveri, Tage, 144—5.

79 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 168.

80 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 32.

81 Boveri, Tage, 214.

82 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 84,
102, no.

83 Boveri, Tage, 207—8.

84 Ibid., 262, 286.

85 Ibid., 209—10.

86 Ibid., 209.

87 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 17.

88 Frank Howley, Berlin Command, New
York 1950, 29, 34.

89 Ibid., 41.

90 Ibid., 46.

91 Ibid., 11.

92 Ritchie, Faust’s Metropolis, 627, 629;
Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 74.

93 Buffet, Berlin, 358; Friedrich,
Schauplatz Berlin, 75.

94 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 436;
Howley, Berlin Command, 57.

95 Howley, Berlin Command, 66— 72.

96 Boveri, Tage, 234—5.

97 Howley, Berlin Command, 22—3.

98 Boveri, Tage, 237—8, 263, 267.

99 Howley, Berlin Command, 79, 87.

100 Ibid., 238-9.

101 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 36.

102 Ibid., 82.

103 Buffet, Berlin, 362.

104 Boveri, Tage, 165.

105 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 45.

106 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 87.

107 Boveri, Tage, 269, 272.

108 Howley, Berlin Command, 12.

109 Ibid., 30, 41,
no Ibid., 39.

in Klaus Lang, ‘Lieber Herr

Celibidache . . / — Wilhelm Furtwangler

und sein Statthalter — Ein philharmoni-
scher Konflict in der Berliner
Nachkriegszeit, Zurich and St Gallen
1988, n-12.

112 Ibid., 13, Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin,
97 -

113 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 356.

114 Ibid., 359.

115 Ibid., 362—3.

116 Renee Bedarida, ‘Une Fran^aise a
Berlin en 1945’, in Manfrass and
Rioux, eds, France—Allemagne, 149.

117 Ibid., 150.

118 Nabokov, Old Friends, 211;
MacDonogh, A Good German, 73.

119 Bedarida, ‘Une Fran^aise’, 150—1.

120 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 160.

121 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 114.

122 Ibid., 139, 141.

123 Clare, Berlin Days, 59.

124 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 16.

125 Albert Speer, Spandau: The Secret
Diaries, translated by Richard and
Clara Winton, London 1976, 66.

CHAPTER 4: EXPULSIONS
FROM CZECHOSLOVAKIA,
HUNGARY AND YUGOSLAVIA

1 Theodor Schieder, ed., Die
Vertreibung der Deutscher Bevolkerung
aus Ost-Mitteleuropa, vol. IV/1:
Tschechoslowakei, Berlin 1957, 4.

2 Alfred M. de Zayas, Nemesis at
Potsdam: The Anglo-Americans and the
Expulsion of the Germans —

Background, Execution, Consequences,
with a foreword by Robert Murphy,
London 1979, 27.

3 Rudolf Jaworski, ‘Die
Sudetendeutscher als Minderheit, in
der Tschechoslowakei 1918—1938’, in
Benz, ed., Die Vertreibung, 29; for the
treatment of German-speaking Jews
after the war, see Melissa Muller and
Reinhard Piechocki, Alice Herz-
Sommer: ‘Ein Garten Eden inmitten der
Holle’, Munich 2006, 308—9.

556

NOTES

4 Ibid., 30.

5 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, xi and n.

8, xiv.

6 Schieder, ed., Tschechoslowakei, 6.

7 Thurn und Taxis, ‘Memoiren’,

33 -

8 E. Franzel, Die Vertreibung Sudetenland
ig45/i()46. Nach Dokumenten des
Bundesministeriums fur Vertriebene,
Fliichtlinge and Kriegsgeschadigte, Bonn;
Nach Dokumenten aus dem
Bundesarchiv in Koblenz, Fragebogen
Berichten des Bundesarchivs, Erlebnis
und Kreisberichten, Bad Nauheim
1967, 108—9.

9 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 56; Zbynek
Zeman with Antonin Klimek, The
Life of Edvard Benes 1884—IQ48 —
Czechoslovakia in Peace and War,
Oxford 1997, 225—6, 237.

10 Franzel, Sudetenland, 20.

11 Ibid., 240.

12 Ibid., 242.

13 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 65.

14 Karl Peter Schwarz, ‘Mit der
Vertreibung vollendet’, in Suppan
and Vyslonzil, eds, Benes, 180.

15 Franzel, Sudetenland, 23—4, 218.

16 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 527— 56 —
the ‘Kaschauer’ Statutes and Benes
Decrees are printed in full; Zeman
and Klimek, Benes, 245.

17 Schwarz, ‘Vertreibung’, 180.

18 Franzel, Sudetenland, 33, 104.

19 Alois Harasko, ‘Die Vertreibung der
Sudetendeutschen. Sechs
Erlebnisberichte’, in Benz, ed., Die
Vertreibung, 107.

20 Zeman and Klimek, Benes, 246.

21 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 66.

22 Ibid.; Franzel, Sudetenland, 22.

23 Zeman and Klimek, Benes, 248.

24 Alice Teichova, ‘Die Tschechen in
der NS-Kriegswirtschaft’, in Suppan
and Vyslonzil, eds, Benes, 172—3;
Franzel, Sudetenland, 19.

25 Schieder, ed., Tschechosowakei, 17.

26 Theodor Schieder, ed., Die
Vertreibung der Deutschen Bevolkerung

aus der Tschechoslowakei, vol. IV/2,
Berlin 1957, 789.

27 Ziemer, Deutsche Exodus, 73.

28 Ibid., 18.

29 Franzel, Sudetenland, 55—6.

30 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Kurt
Schmidt, 366, 375, 402—3.

31 Franzel, Sudetenland, 22.

32 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 18—19, Dr
Hans Wagner, 38, 226—7.

33 Margarete Schell, Ein Tagebuch aus
Prag, Beiheft II, Dokumente der
Vertreibung der Deutschen aus Ost-
Mitteleuropa, Kassel 1957, 9.

34 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Ludwig
Breyer, 333—4; Schell, Tagebuch, 74.

35 Schell, Tagebuch, 24, 34.

36 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 15, Franz
Rosch, 15—16, 28; Thurn und Taxis,
‘Memoiren’, 34.

37 Zhukov, II, 410.

38 Schell, Tagebuch, 12 n. 1.

39 Ibid., 18.

40 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 10.

41 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Hildegard
Hurtinger, 14, Hans Wagner, 39, 42;
Schieder, ed., Tschechoslowakei, 63 n.
1; Thurn und Taxis, ‘Memoiren’, 35.

42 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Dr Hans
Wagner, 39, Sebastian Herr, 50, Kurt
Schmidt, 404.

43 Schell, Tagebuch, 20.

44 Schieder, ed., Tschechoslowakei, 62;
Thurn und Taxis, ‘Memoiren’, 33.

45 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 3—8, 21,
22, 23, 25—6.

46 Ibid., 20, 29.

47 Ibid., 9-10, 13.

48 Ibid., 26—38.

49 Quoted in Ibid., 42.

50 Ibid., 20, 24—5, 40.

51 Schell, Tagebuch, 89—90.

52 Schoner, Tagebuch, 255, 258.

53 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 45.

54 Ibid., 16—17, 41.

55 Ibid., Franz Mauder, 338—9.

56 Franzel, Sudetenland, 97.

57 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 64.

58 Botting, Ruins, 229—30.

557

NOTES

59 Harasko, ‘Sudetendeutschen’,

109—10.

60 Ibid.

61 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 63—75, 76,
77 , 78 .

62 Franzel, Sudetenland, 117.

63 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Else
Kochel and Franz Kaupil, 279—81.

64 Ibid., Erika Griessmann, 313—15.

65 Franzel, Sudetenland, 21.

66 Jiinger, Okkupation, 193.

67 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 128—35,
Edouard Fritsch, 162, 350, 353—4,
Karl Oberdorfer, 389.

68 Ibid., Dr E. Siegel, 147, Hans Strobl,
161.

69 Ibid., Otto Patek and Rudolf
Berthold, 290—1.

70 Ibid., Marie Weiss, 206.

71 Ibid., A.R., 200—2, Franz Wagner,
214.

72 Ibid., Gregor and Johann Partsch,

250-5.

73 Harasko, ‘Sudetendeutschen’,
no—11.

74 Franzel, Sudetenland, 72.

75 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Alfred
Latzel, Karl Schneider and Karl
Froning, 229—50.

76 Ibid., Anton Watzke, 184, Adolf
Aust, 203.

77 Ibid., Franz Limpacher, 317—19, 429,
432 .

78 Ibid., Dr Karl Grimm, 85—101,
Eduard Kaltofen, 182. Der Neue
Brockhaus encyclopaedia gives the
I 939 population figure as 36,500, of
whom 16,000 were Germans.

79 Ibid., 85-7.

80 Pre-war population from Brockhaus;
Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, the judge
Dr Franz Freyer, 105; Harasko,
‘Sudetendeutschen’, 116.

81 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Dr E.
Siegel, 148.

82 Ibid., 105—10, passim.

83 Ibid., 121-3, 124.

84 Harasko, ‘Sudetendeutschen’,

113—15. SS men were identified by

the blood group tattooed in their left
armpit.

85 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Eduard
Grimm, 217—18, 328.

86 Ibid., 124—5.

87 Ibid., 48—50, F. Fiedler, 190.

88 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1056.

89 Franzel, Sudetenland, 222—3.

90 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Marie
Weiss, Josef Zillich and Emilie
Dotzauer, 206—7.

91 Ibid., Dr E. Siegel, 139—61 passim,
Franz Richter, 397.

92 Ibid., Dr E. Siegel, 143.

93 Tom Lampert, Ein einziges Lehen:
Geschichten aus der NS-Zeit, Munich
2003, 168—9. I am grateful to my
friend Ursula Heinzelmann in Berlin
for sending me this book. See also
Hans-Giinther Adler, Theresienstadt
1941-1945, Tubingen 1955.

94 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, 18, Dr E.
Siegel, 153, 160, 216.

95 Ibid., 80—2, quoting Die Brticke, 10
June 1951.

96 Ibid., Dr E. Siegel, 146, Franz
Richter, 397.

97 Ibid., Hans Freund, 17.

98 Schell, Tagebuch, 270—5, passim.

99 Turnwald, ed., Dokumente, Alfred
Latzel, 235, Franz Richter, 399, Max
Griehsel, 470; Wachsmann, Hitler’s
Prisons, 281—2.

100 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 148.

101 Ibid., 149.

102 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 619.

103 Ibid., I, 312.

104 Zeman and Klimek, Benes, 247.

105 Harasko, ‘Sudetendeutschen’, 107.

106 Theodor Schieder, ed.,

Dokumentation der Vertreibung der
Deutschen aus Ost-Mitteleuropa: Das
Schicksal der Deutschen in Ungarn,
Dusseldorf 1956, 41E—45E, 50E, 60E.

107 Ibid., 62E, 65E.

108 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 14.

109 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 313—14.

no Theodor Schieder, ed.,

Dokumentation der Vertreibung der

558

NOTES

Deutschen aus Ost-Mitteleuropa: Das
Schicksal der Deutschen in Rumanien,
Berlin 1957, 6E, 4.1E, 63E.

hi Theodor Schieder, ed.,

Dokumentation der Vertreibung der
Deutschen aus Ost-Mitteleuropa: Das
Schicksal der Deutschen in Jugoslavien,
Diisseldorf 1961, 76E, 82—83E,

108-9.

112 Eva Schmidt-Hartmann, ‘Menschen
oder Nationen? Die Vertreibung der
Deutschen aus tschechischer Sicht’,
in Benz, ed., Die Vertreibung, 143—4.

113 Franzel, Sudetenland, 24.

114 Eva Schmidt-Hartmann, ‘Menschen
oder Nationen?’, 148—9.

CHAPTER 5: HOME TO THE
REICH! RECOVERED
TERRITORIES IN THE
PRUSSIAN EAST

1 Wolfgang Benz, introduction to
Benz, ed., Die Vertreibung, 7.

2 Ibid., 8.

3 Ziemer, Deutsche Exodus, 63.

4 See Egbert Jahn, ‘On the
Phenomenology of Mass
Extermination in Europe: A
Comparative Perspective on the
Holodomor’, in Manfred Sapper and
Volker Weichsel, eds, Sketches of
Europe: Old Lands, New Worlds,
Berlin 2005, a special edition of
Osteuropa, 183—220.

5 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 86—7.

6 Ibid., 88—9.

7 Ibid., 92-3.

8 Ibid., 98.

9 Ibid., 109—11

10 Ibid., 112, 115, 117.

11 Ibid., 118.

12 Ibid., 119—22, 128.

13 Ibid., 131, 133-4.

14 Ibid., 163.

15 Ibid., 136-9.

16 Ibid., 139-40.

17 Ibid., 145.

18 Ibid., 152—3.

19 Ibid, 156-7.

20 Gause, Konigsberg , III, 174;
MacDonogh, Prussia, 386; 'Stalin
ordino: deportateli tutti, la Prussia
dev’essere Sovietica’, Corriere della
Sera, 25 May 1993; ‘Zum Schluss
Schokolade’, Der Spiegel, 28 June
1993 -

21 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 187.

22 Lehndorfi, Tagebuch, 164.

23 Ibid., 159—60.

24 Ibid., 168—70, 175.

25 Marion Grafin Donhofl, 'Ein Brief
aus Ostpreussen in her Weit ist der
Weg nach Osten - Berichte und
Betrachtungen ausfiinf Jahrzehnten,
Munich 1988, 18.

26 Ibid., 19.

27 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 202.

28 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 187; Naimark,
Russians in Germany, 74.

29 Lehndorfi, Tagebuch, 183—5.

30 Ibid., 192.

31 Ibid., 194—6.

32 Kaps, Tragodie, 152—4, 156; Tighe,
Gdansk, 205.

33 Kaps, Tragodie, 164—5.

34 Hupka, Letze Tage, 39.

35 Michael Luke, Hansel Pless — Prisoner
of History, London 2001, 215—16.

36 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 66—7.

37 Normann, Tagebuch, 132—5.

38 Davies and Moorhouse, Microcosm,
409—10.

39 Ibid., 411.

40 Tighe, Gdansk, 206—7.

41 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 12.

42 Kaps, Tragodie, 73.

43 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 23.

44 Normann, Tagebuch, 201.

45 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 200.

46 Ibid., 34.

47 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 206.

48 Ibid., 202.

49 Ibid., 45, 124.

50 Ibid., 202, 204.

51 Ibid., 254.

52 Kaps, Tragodie, 138, 418; Hupka,

559

NOTES

Letzte Tage, 223.

53 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 75.

54 Kaps, Tragodie, 177.

55 Davies and Moorhouse, Microcosm,
413 -

56 Ibid., 414.

57 Kaps, Tragodie, 292.

58 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 148.

59 Kaps, Tragodie, 75.

60 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 135, 200.

61 Tighe, Gdansk, 215.

62 Giles MacDonogh, Frederick the
Great, London 1999, 269, 274; Klaus
Ullmann, Schlesien-Lexikon,
Mannheim 1985, 118; Hupka, Letzte
Tage, 293.

63 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 47.

64 Kaps, Tragodie, 74, 139.

65 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 179-80.

66 Kaps, Tragodie, 358.

67 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 38.

68 Kaps, Tragodie, 417—20; Hupka, Letzte
Tage, 136.

69 Kaps, Tragodie, 175.

70 Ibid., 252, 484.

71 Ibid., 180.

72 Ibid., 184.

73 Ibid., 178-85.

74 Ibid., 184.

75 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 46.

76 Kaps, Tragodie, 189.

77 Ibid., 157, 165.

78 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 23—5.

79 Ibid., 26—7.

80 Ibid., 67.

81 Ibid., 39.

82 Ibid., 63, 80.

83 Ibid., 68.

84 Ibid., 68, 78.

85 Kaps, Tragodie, 223—30.

86 Ibid., 497, 502.

87 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 85, 86.

88 Ibid., 80—1.

89 Ibid., 89—92.

90 Ibid., 92.

91 Ibid., 44—5, 105; van Pelt and
Dwork, Auschwitz, 334.

92 Kaps, Tragodie, 148, 150.

93 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 96—7.

94 Joset Foschepoth, 'Potsdam und
danach: Die Westmachte, Adenauer
und die Vertriebenen', in Benz, ed.,
Die Vertreibung, 82.

95 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 243.

96 Kaps, Tragodie, 75.

97 Ibid., 359.

98 Ibid., 131—2.

99 Ibid., 132-3.

100 Ibid., 404—5.

101 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 149.

102 Gerhart Pohl, Bin ich noch in meinem
Haus? Die letzte Tage Gerhart
Hauptmanns, Berlin 1953, 24—5.

103 Grigori Weiss, ‘Auf der Suche nach
der versunkenen Glocke. Johannes
R. Becher bei Gerhart Hauptmann’,
in Erinnerungen an Johannes R. Becher,
Frankfurt/Main 1974, 217.

104 Pohl, Bin ich noch, 44—5.

105 Ibid., 50.

106 Hupka, Letzte Tage, 302—3.

107 Pohl, Bin ich noch, 72—3.

108 Ibid., 54. Pohl’s petits negres have a
certain sameness that makes them
suspicious.

109 Ibid., 66.

no Ibid., 69.

in Weiss, ‘Auf der Suche’, 227.

112 Ibid., 233.

113 Kaps, Tragodie, 420—1; Ullmann,
Lexikon, 20; Hupka, Letzte Tage,
313-14, 316-17-

114 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 302.

115 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 139—40;
Giles MacDonogh, The Last Kaiser:
William the Impetuous, London 2000,
123.

116 Benz, ed., Die Vertreibung, 8.

117 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 236.

118 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 147.

119 Ibid., 152.

120 Ibid., 155.

121 Davies and Moorhouse, Microcosm,
422.

122 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 15.

123 Ibid., 16.

124 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 173.

125 Ibid., 188.

560

NOTES

126 Lehndorff, Tagebuch, 204.

127 Normann, Tagebuch, 268.

128 Henke, ‘Exodus’, 99.

129 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 189.

130 Kaps, Tragodie, 87.

131 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 197.

132 Normann, Tagebuch, 270.

PROLOGUE TO PART II

1 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
13 -

2 Patricia Meehan, A Strange Enemy
People: Germans under the British
1945—1950, London and Chester
Springs 2001, 13.

3 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
105.

CHAPTER 6: LIFE IN THE
RUSSIAN ZONE

1 Peterson, Russian Commands, 7.

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid., 13.

4 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 24—6.

5 Ibid., 16.

6 Gregory Klimov, The Terror
Machine — The Inside Story of Soviet
Administered Germany, translated by
H. C. Stevens with an introduction
by Edward Crankshaw and Ernst
Reuter, London n.d., 103.

7 Ibid., 26—7, 30—1.

8 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 69;
Peterson, Russian Commands, 14;
Hans Borgelt, Das war der Fruhling in
Berlin. Die goldene Hungerjahre. Eine
Berlin Chronik, Munich 1983, 38.

9 Leonhard, Revolution, 302.

10 Williams, More Lives than One,

247-8.

11 Boveri, Tage, 165.

12 Leonhard, Revolution, 341—2.

13 Boveri, Tage, 217—19.

14 Quoted in Naimark, Russians in
Germany, 142—3.

15 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 108.

16 Franz Prinz zu Sayn-Wittgenstein,
Streifziige durch die Landschaften meines
Lebens, privately printed, Munich
2000, 161—4.

17 Ibid., 143.

18 Ibid., 163.

19 Harald von Koenigswald, ed., Besuche
vor der Untergang — aus
Tagebuchaufzeichnungen von Udo von
Alvensleben. Frankfurt/Main 1968,
147.

20 Ibid., 162.

21 Borgelt, Das war der Fruhling in Berlin,
45 -

22 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 116.

23 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 80—1.

24 Michael Cullen, Der Reichstag — Die
Geschichte eines Monumentes, Stuttgart
1990 , 399 -

25 Nikolaus Bernau, ‘Der Ort des
Souverans’, in Fordverein Berliner
Stadtschloss, Das Schloss? Eine
Ausstellung uber die Mitte Berlins,

Berlin 1993, 75.

26 There have been moves to rebuild all
three. The decision to put back the
Berlin Schloss was approved by the
German parliament, but so far the
project has been stymied by lack of
funds in a bankrupt city. In 2005 it
was ruled that the exterior of the city
palace in Potsdam would be re¬
erected to house the provincial
parliament or Landtag. For the time
being the plans to rebuild the
Garrison Church remain on the
drawing board.

27 Alan Balfour, Berlin: The Politics of
Order, iy^y—1989, New York 1990,
187.

28 Buffet, Berlin, 363.

29 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 10—11.

30 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 16;
Lowenthal, Potsdam, 16.

31 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 19.

32 Ibid., 20—3.

33 Ibid., 24-5.

34 Ibid., 34, 41, 44.

561

NOTES

35 Klimov, Terror Machine, 118—20;
Peterson, Russian Commands, 104.

36 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 72.

37 Ibid., 97.

38 Ibid., 113-18.

39 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 42,

44.

40 Ibid., 85.

41 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 53.

42 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 105.

43 Ibid., 92, 94—6, 116.

44 Klimov, Terror Machine, 117.

45 Ibid., 221.

46 Ibid., 208, 219.

47 Michel Bar-Zohar, The Hunt for
German Scientists, translated by Len
Ortzen, London 1967, 9.

48 Ibid., 151-3, 161, 168.

49 Klimov, Terror Machine, 222—5.

50 Jana Urbancova and Claus Josef
Riedel, Riedel od roku 1756, exhibi¬
tion catalogue, Jablonec (Gablonz),

19 August—27 October 1991, 14.

51 Naimark, Russians in Germany,
237—40, 248—9; Petersen, Russian
Commands, i23;Jiinger, Okkupation,
293-

52 Naimark, Russians in Germany,

355 -7, 360-2, 374.

53 Peterson, Russian Commands, 46.

54 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 376;
Peterson, Russian Commands, 25.

55 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 378.

56 Ibid., 381—2.

57 Lowenthal, Potsdam, 201—2.

58 Alexander Behrens, Johannes R.

Becher, eine politische Biographie,
Cologne, Weimar and Vienna 2003,
223.

59 Wolfgang Schivelbusch, In a Cold
Crater — Cultural and Intellectual Life in
Berlin 1945—1948, Berkeley, Los
Angeles and London 1998, ix.

60 Behrens, Becher, 223.

61 Ibid., 225.

62 Clare, Berlin Days, 62.

63 Ibid., 81.

64 Schivelbusch, Cold Crater, 31, 36—7.

65 Zuckmayer, ‘Bericht iiber das Film-

und Theaterleben’, in
Deutschlandbericht, 156—204.

66 Clare, Berlin Days, 64.

67 Behrens, Becher, 229.

68 Schivelbusch, Cold Crater, 40, 45.

69 Ibid., 231—3.

70 Lang, 'Lieber Herr Celibidache’, 21.

71 Ibid., 28—9.

72 Clare, Berlin Days, 81; Lang, ‘Lieber
Herr Celibidache’, 33.

73 Clare, Berlin Days, 105—7.

74 Speer, Diaries, 104.

75 Clare, Berlin Days, 182—4.

76 Speer, Diaries, 44.

77 Boveri, Tage, 159.

78 Lang, ‘ Lieber Herr Celibidache’, 59.

79 Ibid., 71

80 Schivelbusch, Cold Crater, 56.

81 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 92;
Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 364.

82 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 105.

83 David Pike, The Politics and Culture in
Soviet-Occupied Germany, 1945—1949,
Stanford 1992, 189—92.

84 Clare, Berlin Days, 128.

85 Williams, More Lives than One, 252.

86 Ibid., 256—7.

87 Erinnerung an Johannes R. Becher, 189.

88 Carsten Wurm, Jeden Tag ein Buch —
50 Jahre Aufbau-Verlag 1945—1995,
Berlin 1995, 11—12.

89 Ibid., 10, 119.

90 Behrens, Becher, 234.

91 Ritchie, Faust’s Metropolis, 624.

92 Behrens, Becher, 239—40.

93 Ibid., 241—2.

94 Ronald Taylor, Berlin and its Culture,
New Haven and London, 1997, 228.

95 Ibid., 244—66.

CHAPTER 7: LIFE IN THE
AMERICAN ZONE

1 John Dos Passos, Tour of Duty,

Boston 1946, 248—50; Summersby,
Eisenhower was my Boss, 235.

2 Kay Summersby Morgan, Past
Forgetting — My Love Affair with

562

NOTES

Dwight D. Eisenhower, London 1977,
198.

3 Klimov, Terror Machine, 136.

4 Stern, Hidden Damages, 350.

5 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 244, 247.

6 Ladislas Farago, The Last Days of
Patton, New York, St Louis, San
Francisco and Toronto 1981, 59—64;
Carlo d’Este, A Genius for War: A
Life of George S. Patton, London 1995,
738 .

7 D’Este, Patton, 712.

8 Farago, Last Days, 68.

9 D’Este, Patton, 766.

10 Trevor Royle, Patton — Old Blood and
Guts, London 2005, 194—6.

11 D’Este, Patton, 755.

12 Farrago, Last Days, 156.

13 D’Este, Patton, 755.

14 Davidson, Death and Life, 77.

15 Farago, Last Days, 1.

16 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 7.

17 Ibid., 351.

18 Ibid., 459, 463.

19 Salomon, The Answers, 422.

20 Padover, Psychologist, 314—16.

21 Salomon, The Answers, 422; Petra
Goedde, GIs and Germans, New
Haven and London 2003, 67.

22 Marta Krauss, Heimkehr in eines
fremdes Land — Geschichte der
Remigranten nach 1945, Munich 2001,
63 - 5 -

23 Stern, Hidden Damage, 71

24 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 7.

25 Ibid., 71.

26 Ibid., 80.

27 Hanns Mayer, Im guten Ratskeller zu
Bremen, 5th edn., Bremen 1985,
no— 11; information from Dr Carl-
Ferdinand von Schubert at
Maximin-Griinhaus.

28 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 263.

29 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 41.

30 Ibid., 69.

31 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 92—3.

32 Ibid., 102-3.

33 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 4, 15, 46.

34 Ibid., 50-1, 57.

35 Ibid., 53—4; Salomon, The Answers,
415, 408.

36 Salomon, The Answers, 320, 321.

37 Stern, Hidden Damage, 216—17.

38 Boveri, Tage, 283—4.

39 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 72—6.

40 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 75.

41 Ibid., 115.

42 Ibid., 95—6. 248.

43 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 59—60.

44 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht 20—1.

45 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 94—6, 101.

46 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 32 See
also Saul K. Padover, Experiment in
Germany. The Story of an American
Intelligence Officer, New York 1946;
also John Dos Passos, Tour of Duty,
Boston 1946.

47 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 36—8.

48 Ibid., 42.

49 Peterson, Russian Commands, 254.

50 Boveri, Tage, 320—1.

51 Stern, Hidden Damage, 198.

52 Ibid., 324—5.

53 Salomon, The Answers, 416—17;
Goedde, GIs and Germans, 84;
Naimark, Russians in Germany, 106 n.
172.

54 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 73.

55 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 109, in;
Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 163.

56 Davidson, Death and Life, 55.

57 Skrjabina, Allies on the Rhine, 86—7.

58 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 59.

59 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 102.

60 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 86.

61 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 102.

62 Stern, Hidden Damage, 313.

63 Muller, Bis zur letzten Konsequenz,
304-6.

64 Ibid., 307.

65 Ibid., 311.

66 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 82, 89—90.

67 Muller, Bis zur letzten Konsequenz,

323.

68 Volker Hentschel, Ludwig Erhard. Ein
Politikerlehen, Munich and Landsberg
am Lech 1996, 40—2.

69 Ibid., 48.

563

NOTES

70 Ibid., 51.

71 Frederic Spotts, Bayreuth — A History
of the Wagner Festival, New Haven
and London 1994, 200.

72 Hamann, Winifred Wagner, 412—13.

73 Spotts, Bayreuth, 201.

74 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifziige, 185.

75 Ibid., 56, 90

76 See Zuckmayer, ‘Bericht iiber das
Film- und Theaterleben’.

77 Zuckmayer, ‘Allgemeiner Bericht
liber die Filmsituation in
Deutschland’, in Deutschlandhericht,
185-204.

78 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 121—2.

79 Ibid., 57, 14.

80 Ibid., 84—5; see also Helmuth James
von Moltke, Letters to Freya
1 939~ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 945, edited and translated by
Beate Ruhm von Oppen, London
I99L 393-

81 Reinhard Lettau, ed., Die Gruppe 47.
Bericht, Kritik, Polemik, Neuwied
1967, 22, 35.

82 Stern, Hidden Damage, 280—1.

CHAPTER 8: LIFE IN THE
BRITISH ZONE

1 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
99-

2 Victor Gollancz, In Darkest Germany,
London 1947, 17.

3 Ibid., 29.

4 Lord Longford, Avowed Intent,
London 1994, 103—5. Longford’s
book is particularly unsatisfying,
especially given that he was minister
during currency reform and the
Berlin crisis, yet mentions neither.

5 Ibid., 156.

6 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 53—4.

7 See Weeks’s biography in DNB 57.
There is remarkably little written
about these significant British post¬
war administrators.

8 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 82.

9 See his biography in DNB 16.

Douglas did write volumes of auto¬
biography: Years of Command,

London 1966, covers the period.

10 Peter Merseburger, Der Schwieriger
Deutsche — Kurt Schumacher. Eine
Biographie, Stuttgart 1995, 197—8.

11 His biography is in DNB 47.

12 Clare, Berlin Days, 146.

13 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 63.

14 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 53,

60, 62, 67.

15 Ibid., 140—2; Tom Bower, Blind Eye
to Murder, London 1981, 130.

16 Robert Birley, The German Problem
and the Responsibility of Britain, The
Burge Memorial Lecture, London
1947, 5-

17 Ibid., 7-9.

18 Meehan, Strange Enemy People,

163-5-

19 Ibid., 171.

20 Krauss, Heimkehr, 74—5.

21 Clare, Berlin Days, 162; See also
Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control.

22 Meehan, Strange Enemy People,

173—5, ‘Secret Retreat Marks 60
Years of Diplomacy’, in BBC News
Online, 12 January 2006. See Richard
Mayne, In Victory, Magnanimity, In
Peace, Goodwill: A History of Wilton
Park, London 2003.

23 See A. G. Dickens, Liibeck Diary,
London 1947.

24 Ibid., 164, 173.

25 Corine Defrance, La Politique cul-
turelle de la France sur la rive gauche du
Rhin, 1945-1955, Strasbourg 1994, 52.

26 Clare, Berlin Days, 15, 35; author’s
own visits to the Marlborough Club.

27 Ibid., 37, 40.

28 Ibid., 42.

29 Botting, Ruins, 293—5.

30 Speer, Diaries, 79.

31 MacDonogh, The Last Kaiser, 173—4.

32 George Drower, Heligoland — The
True Story of the German Bight and the
Island that Britain Betrayed, Stroud
2002, 217.

33 Ibid., 219.

564

NOTES

34 Ibid., 226—7.

35 Ibid., 235.

36 ‘Der besessene Besitzer’, Frankfurter
Allgemeine Zeitung, 16 December
2005 — kindly communicated by
Angela Bohrer.

37 Schulenburg, Ich hab’s gewagt, 183—4;
Ruge, ed., Schulenburg, 63.

38 Schulenburg, Ich hab’s gewagt, 186—7.

39 Alan Bullock, Ernest Benin — Foreign
Secretary 1945—1951, London 1983,
265.

40 George F. Kennan, Memoirs
1925—1950, London 1968, 437.

41 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 75.

42 Ibid., 79. Gollancz fails to recognise
the Emperor Fritz.

43 Herzogin Viktoria Luise, Ein Leben,
333. See Frieda Utley, The High Cost
of Vengeance, Chicago 1949.

44 Meehan, Strange Enemy People,

I 9 I- 4 -

45 Ibid., 214—15, 221, 236; see also
Ralf Richter, Ivan Hirst, 2nd edn,
Wolfsburg 2004.

46 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 98.

47 Ruge, ed., Schulenburg, 68—9.

48 Interview with Karl-Heinz Bohrer,
November 2004.

49 Charles Williams, Adenauer — The
Father of the New Germany, London
2000, 289.

50 Ibid., 295.

51 Ibid., 296.

52 Merseburger, Schumacher, 202.

53 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 60.

54 Quoted in MacDonogh, Prussia, 6.

55 Ibid., 297.

56 Ibid, 300—1.

57 Ibid., 302; confirmed in Heinrich
Boll’s short story ‘Als der Krieg zu
Ende war’ (When the War was
Over), 1962.

58 Williams, Adenauer, 305.

59 Merseburger, Schumacher, 200.

60 Gilbert Ziebura, Die deutsch-franzosis-
chen Beziehungen seit 1945: My then
und Realitaten, Pfullingen 1970, 57.

61 Ibid., 59.

62 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 387;
Ziebura, Die deutsch-franzosische
Beziehungen, 62.

63 Ibid., 325—6.

64 Merseburger, Schumacher, 7.

65 Ibid., 212.

66 Ibid., 299—300.

67 Ibid., 282.

68 Willi A. Boelcke, Der Schwarzmarkt
1945—1948 — Vom iiberleben nach dem
Kriege, Brunswick 1986, 78.

69 Merseburger, Schumacher, 238.

70 Ibid., Schumacher, 224.

71 Ibid., 318.

72 Ibid., 320; Gollancz, In Darkest
Germany, 49.

73 Clare, Berlin Days, 188.

74 Ibid., 169.

75 Ibid., 130.

76 Herzogin Viktoria Luise, Ein Leben,
330 .

CHAPTER 9: LIFE IN THE
FRENCH ZONE

1 Davidson, Death and Life, 82.

2 Defrance, La Politique culturelle, 29.

3 Stern, Hidden Damage, 161.

4 Frank Raberg, ‘Landesregierungen
und franzosisch Besatzungsmacht:
Aus den Kabinettsprotokollen von
Baden und Wiirttemberg-
Hohenzollern’, in Kurt Hochstuhl,
ed., Deutsche und Franzosen im zusam-
menwachsenden Europa, 1945—2000,
Stuttgart 2003, 14.

5 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 400; Balfour
and Mair, Four Power Control, 106.

6 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
2 3 -

7 Young, France, 52, 58.

8 Edgar Wolfram, ‘Die franzosische
Politik in besetzten Deutschland: neue
Forschungen, alte Klischees, vernach-
lassige Fragen’, in Hochstuhl, ed.,
Deutsche und Franzosen, 66.

9 Ibid., 60.

10 Weber, Schmid, 193—4, 220 -

565

NOTES

11 Ibid., 286.

12 Willi A. Boelcke, ‘Industrie und
Technologie in der franzosische
Besatzungszone’, in Manfrass and
Rioux, eds, France—Allemagne, 177—8.

13 Ibid., 178—9.

14 Ibid., 181—5.

15 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 81.

16 Bar-Zohar, Hunt for German Scientists,
133 — 5 -

17 Skrjabina, Allies on the Rhine, 42, 55,
58, 60.

18 Interview with Karl-Heinz Bohrer,
November 2004.

19 Paul Falkenburger, ‘Souvenir d’un
ancient curateur adjoint de l’univer-
site de Freibourg’, in Manfrass and
Rioux, eds, France—Allemagne, 285.

20 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 35.

21 Young, France, 76.

22 Ibid., 88—9.

23 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 88—9.

24 Young, France, 102—4.

25 Ibid., 106—7.

26 Ibid., 117.

27 Raymond Poidevin, Robert Schuman,
Paris 1988, 74.

28 Ibid., 74—6.

29 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 288.

30 Young, France, 145.

31 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 1004,
1056—7.

32 Defrance, La Politique culturelle, 30—1.

33 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 404.

34 Ibid., 429-30.

35 Ibid., 431-2.

36 Ibid., 413.

CHAPTER 10: AUSTRIA’S
ZONES AND SECTORS

1 Bethouart, Bataille, 73.

2 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 279.

3 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 76.

4 Ibid., 86, 87, 89.

5 Schoner, Tagebuch, 242.

6 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 68, 71.

7 Ibid., 72.

8 Ibid., 90.

9 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 31—2.

10 Schoner, Tagebuch, 249.

11 Ibid., 283.

12 Private information.

13 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 49—50.

14 Beer, ‘Niederosterreich’, 156.

15 Franzel, Sudetenland, 117.

16 Schoner, Tagebuch, 290—1; Rathkolb,
‘Historische Fragmente’, 154;
Margaretha, Tagebuch, 84.

17 Magaretha, Tagebuch, 89—90.

18 Michael Gehler, “‘Kein Anschluss
aber auch kein chinesische Mauer”.
Osterreichs aussenpolitische
Emanzipation und die deutsche
Frage 1945—1955’, in Ableitner et al.,
eds, Osterreich unter alliierter Besatzung,
206.

19 Ibid., 207.

20 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 122.

21 Rauchensteiner, ‘Jahrzehnt’, 24;
Rauchsteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 60.

22 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 61;
Gehler, “‘Kein Anschluss’”, 208.

23 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 113.

24 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
277.

25 Papers kindly communicated by
Podhragy’s son, Johannes.

26 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
292.

27 Renner, World Review, May 1938.
Document communicated by
Johannes Popper von Podhragy.

28 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
no.

29 Ibid., 40.

30 General Mark Clark, Calculated Risk,
London 1956, 411.

31 Ibid., 412; Bethouart, Bataille, 25—6;
Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 293.

32 Beer, ‘Niederosterreich’, 139.

33 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
in.

34 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 106.

35 Reinhold Wagnleitner, ed.,
Understanding Austria: The Political
Reports and Analyses of Martin F. Herz,

566

NOTES

Political Officer of the US Legation in
Vienna 1945—1948, Salzburg 1984, 94.

36 Ibid., 427.

37 Hermann Riepl, ‘Die Neubilding
der Niederosterreichisches
Landesregierung und der
Wiederaufbau der
Niederosterreichisches
Landesverwaltung imjahre 1945’, in
Bezemek and Rossner, eds,
Niederosterreich — Sudmahren, 88.

38 Alfred Ableitinger, ‘Grossbritannien
unter der zweite Kontrollabkommen:
Genese und Gehalt des britischen
Regierungsentwurfes’, in Ableitinger
et al., eds, Osterreich unter alliieter
Besatzung, 98.

39 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
122-3, 143-4-

40 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 160.

41 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
185—6; Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4,
58.

42 Siegfried Beer, ‘Die Besatzungsmacht
Grossbritannien und Osterreich
1945—1949’, in Ableitinger et al., eds,
Osterreich unter alliierter Besatzung, 59.

43 Quoted in The Patriot, 2 August
1945 -

44 Rathkolb, ‘Historische Fragmente’,

151-

45 Bethouart, Bataille, 28.

46 Margaretha, Tagehuch, 105.

47 Ibid., 105, 107, 109, 112.

48 Ibid., 117; the last epithet the author
learned from his Viennese godfather
on a visit to Vienna in 1969.

49 Clark, Calculated Risk, 416—18.

50 Ibid., 434.

51 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 22.

52 Ibid., 420.

53 Ibid., 76.

54 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 55.

55 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 23, 32—3, 34,
53 -

56 Ibid., 418—19.

57 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 125, 128;
Bethouart, Bataille, 83.

58 Bethouart, Bataille, 86.

59 Ibid., 75-6.

60 Ibid., 77.

61 Clark, Calculated Risk, 4.4.6.

62 Ibid., 421—2.

63 Communicated by Sebastian Cody.

64 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 140.

65 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
200; Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 160.

66 Margaretha, Tagebuch, 149.

67 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 75.

68 Ibid., 74; Bethouart, Bataille, 96.

69 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 80.

70 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 281, 292.

71 Clark, Calculated Risk, 431.

72 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 83.

73 Ibid., 94-6.

74 Peter Leighton-Langer, X Stehtfur
unbekannt — Deutsche und Osterreicher
in den britischen Streitkrdften im zweiten
Weltkrieg, Berlin 1999, 237—8.

75 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,

325.

76 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 282, 291,
293 -

77 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 47;
Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 130—1.

78 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 76—7.

79 Ibid., 116—17.

80 The authors maternal grandfathers
family is a case in point. Before 1938
they owned a substantial corner of
the Karntnerstrasse and the
Weihburggasse in the centre of
Vienna. On the site was the depart¬
ment store Modehaus Zwieback, the
restaurant Zu den drei Husaren and
the Palais Pereira. After the war the
family managed to regain the depart¬
ment store, which they resold in
1:957. On the other hand they were
not compensated for their lost palace
and the restaurant was later sold by
Goring’s favourite restaurateur,
Gustav Horcher, to Egon Fodermayr.
In the immediate post-war years it
had been Renners canteen. See Tina
Walzer and Stephan Tempi, Unser
Wien — Ariesierung auf Osterreichisch,
Berlin 2001, 42—3, and the

567

NOTES

Grundbiicher (Land Register) for 2
and 4 Weihburggasse as well as 11,
13—15 Karntnerstrasse.

81 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 97;
Clark, Calculated Risk, 424.

82 Clark, Calculated Risk, 424 n. 1.

83 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 134, 154.

84 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 102.

85 Clark, Calculated Risk, 425.

86 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 9.

87 Zuckmayer, ‘Allgemeiner Bericht
liber die Filmsituation in
Deutschland’.

88 Quoted in Marietta Bearman and
Charmian Brinson, ‘Keine einfache
Sache’, in Bearman et al.,

Wien—London, 238.

89 Charmian Brinson, ‘Ein Stuck
wahrer Kultur, ein Stuck Wien, ein
Stuck Leben’, in Bearman et al.,
Wien—London, 171.

90 Walter Binnebos, Galoppsport in
Wien, Vienna 1980, 147—8.

91 Rathkolb, ‘Historische Fragmente,
148; Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4,

36 .

92 Information from Georg Stiegelmar,
the late Helmut Osberger and Erich
Salomon.

93 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 125;
Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 48.

94 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 134.

95 Beer, ‘Niederosterreich’, 146, 148,
155-6, 165-6.

96 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 38;
Andrew Gibson-Watt, An
Undistinguished Life, Lewes 1990, 173.

97 Gibson-Watt, Life, 183.

98 Beer, ‘Grossbritannien’, 52—3.

99 Ibid., 63.

100 Helmut Eberhart, ‘Weideraufbau in
Nachkriegszeit — Das Tagebuch von
Anton Pirchegger’, in Siegfried Beer,
ed., Die ‘Britische Steiermark’
1945 - 1955 , Graz 1995.

101 Stefan Karner, “‘Ich bekam zehn
Jahre Zwangsarbeit”: zu den

Verschleppungen aus der Steiermark
durch sowjetische Organe in Jahre

1945’, in Beer, ed., Die ‘Britische
Steiermark’, 249—50; Othmar Pickl,
‘Das Kriegsende 1945 und die friihe
Besatzungszeit im mittleren MiirztaT,
in Beer, ed., Die ‘Britische Steiermark’.
250.

102 Beer, ‘Grossbritannien’, 57.

103 Alfred Ableitinger, Siegfried Beer
and Eduard G. Staudinger,
Besatzungszeit in der Steiermark, Graz,
Esztergom, Paris and New York
1994 , 15 -

104 Ibid., 17.

105 Beer, ed., Die ‘Britische Steiermark’,

25; Siegfried Beer, ‘Die Briten und
der Wiederaufbau des Justizwesens in
der Steiermark 1945—1950’, in ibid.,
113-14.

106 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 40.

107 Gibson-Watt, Life, 172.

108 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 24—6.

109 Donald Cameron Watt, ‘Austria as a
Special Case in Cold War Europe —

A Personal Note’, in Ableitinger et
al., eds, Osterreich unter alliierter
Besatzung, 282.

no Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 58.

in Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
3 I 4 -I 5 -

112 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 67.

113 Arthur Radley, ‘The British Military
Government in Steiermark [sic]

1 945— 1 94b, Personal Reminiscences’,
in Beer, ed., Die ‘Britische Steiermark’,
586-7.

114 John Corsellis and Marcus Ferrar,
Slovenia 1945: Memories of Death and
Survival after World War II, London
and New York 2005, 8.

115 Gibson-Watt, Life, 178.

116 Corsellis and Ferrar, Slovenia, 19.

117 Ibid., 43.

118 Ibid., 45.

119 Gibson-Watt, Life, 179.

120 Corsellis and Ferrar, Slovenia, 47.

121 Gibson-Watt, Life, 173.

122 Nikolai Tolstoy, Victims of Yalta,
London 1977, 220—1.

123 Ibid., 225—6, 229; Thurn und Taxis,

568

NOTES

‘Memoiren’, 28—9.

124 Corsellis and Ferrar, Slovenia, 49.

125 Ibid., 50; Gibson-Watt, Life, 179.

126 Corsellis and Ferrar, Slovenia, 52, 59,
186.

127 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 44;
Ralph W. Brown III, ‘A Cold War
Army of Occupation’, in Ableitinger
et al., eds, Osterreich unter alliierter
Besatzung, 349—50; Rathkolb, ed.,
Gesellschaft und Politik, 246.

128 Quoted in Rauchensteiner,
Stalinplatz 4, 45.

129 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
168-70.

130 Ibid., 303.

131 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 46.

132 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 7.

133 Brown, ‘Cold War Army’, 355—66.

134 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 55.

135 Clark, Calculated Risk, 414; for
Hitler’s use of the building, and the
French furniture: Eberle and Uhl,
Das Buck Hitler, 113.

136 Clark, Calculated Risk, 415.

137 Ibid., 415.

138 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
243 -

139 Ibid., 255.

140 Clark, Calculated Risk, 420—1.

141 Ibid., 432.

142 Gunter Bischof, ‘Der Nationale
Sicherheitsrat und die amerikanische
Osterreichspolitik im friihen Kalten
Krieg’, in Ableitinger et al., eds,
Osterreich unter alliierter Besatzung,

112, 116.

143 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
243 -

144 Ibid., 49 - 55 -

145 Ibid., 69-71.

146 Bethouart, Bataille, 42.

147 Ibid., 47.

148 Bethouart, Bataille, 54.

149 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 41—2.

150 Bethouart, Bataille, 55.

151 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
371 -

152 Bethouart, Bataille, 59.

153 Ibid., 67.

154 Ibid., 67—8; Rauchensteiner,
Stalinplatz 4, 64; Otto von Habsburg,
Kampf um Osterreich, 72, 75; Balfour
and Mair, Four Power Control, 334.

155 Habsburg, Kampf, 78.

156 Denys G. C. Salt, ‘Reminiscences of
Styria’, in Beer, ed., Die ‘Britische
Steiermark\ 592.

CHAPTER 11: LIFE IN ALL
FOUR ZONES

1 Clare, Berlin Days, 17—18.

2 Stern, Hidden Damage, 284.

3 Ibid., 286.

4 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 97—9.

5 See Heinrich Boll, Wanderer, kommst
du nach Spa, Munich 2004; interview
with Karl-Heinz Bohrer, November
2004. Norbert Miihlen, LTncroyable
Famille Krupp, Paris 1961, 197.

6 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 132,

133—4; Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht,
149.

7 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 137, 144,
161-3.

8 Quoted in Zuckmayer,
Deutschlandhericht, 272.

9 Ruge, ed., Schulenhurg, 94.

10 Quoted in Williams, More Lives than
One, xiii.

11 Borgelt, Das war der Fruhling in Berlin,
69; Krauss, Heimkehr, 56—7, 73.

12 Ernst Jiinger, Der Friede. Ein Wort an
die Jugend Europas. Ein Wort an die
Jugend der Welt, Vienna 1949, 83, 87.

13 Jiinger, Okkupation, 147.

14 Jiinger, Der Friede, 10.

15 Ibid., 21.

16 Ibid., 16.

17 Ibid., 76.

18 Karl O. Paetel, Ernst Jiinger. Die
Wandlung eines Deutschen Dichters und
Patrioten, New York 1946, 10.

19 Salomon, The Answers, 524.

20 Ibid., Goronwy Rees preface, viii.

21 Ibid., 545—6.

569

NOTES

22 Michael Kennedy, Richard Strauss,
Oxford 1995, 107—12.

23 Leighton-Langer, X, 231.

24 Hans Habe, Im Jahre Null. Ein Beitrag
zur Geschichte der deutscher Presse,
Munich 1966, 50, 53, 70, 79;
KardorfF, Aufzeichnungen, 363, 364 n.
1.

25 Zuckmayer, ‘Bericht iiber das Film-
und Theaterleben’.

26 Georg Stefan Troller, Dasfidele Grab
an der Do nan — Mein Wien 1918—1938,
Diisseldorf and Zurich 2004, 96.

27 Habe, Im Jahre Null. 119-20.

28 Smith, ed., Clay Papers. II, 1066.

29 Schulenburg, Ich liab’s gewagt, 200.

30 Ibid., 206.

31 Clare, Berlin Days, 158-9.

32 Stern, Hidden Damage, 167.

3 3 See Inge Scholl, Die Weisse Rose,
Frankfurt/Main 1988.

34 Stern, Hidden Damage, 175.

35 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 337.

36 Ibid., 363; Ruge, ed., Schulenburg,

65.

37 Schulenburg, Ich hab’sgewagt, 185.

38 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 57.

39 Ibid., 104.

40 Ibid., 105—6.

41 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 339.

42 Chamberlain and Feldman, eds,
Liberation, 71—2; Leighton-Langer, X,
228.

43 Leighton-Langer, X, 229.

44 Ibid., 230.

45 Normann, Tagebuch, 207—8.

46 Stern, Hidden Damage, 343—4, 350.

47 Clare, Berlin Days, 152.

48 Rebecca West, The Meaning of
Treason, 2nd edn, London 1982, 129.

49 Peck, ‘Jiidische DPs’, 205.

50 Ibid., 206.

51 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1228.

52 Ruth Gay, Safe among the Germans:
Liberated Jews after World War II, New
Haven and London 2002, x—xi, 70,
72 .

53 Peck, ‘Jiidische DPs’, 206.

54 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1132.

55 Ibid., 1229; Peck, “Jiidische DPs’,
206.

56 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1234.

57 Ibid., 1134.

58 Ibid., 65.

59 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht,
111-12.

60 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 131.

61 Ibid., 257.

62 Gay, Safe, 104-5.

63 Ibid., 59-60, 63, 103.

64 Peck, ‘Jiidische DPs’, 207.

65 Gay, Safe, 56; Peck, 'Jiidische DPs’,

208.

66 Shepherd, After Daybreak, 44.

67 Ibid., 71.

68 Ibid., 72.

69 Ibid., 92.

70 Ibid., 116.

71 Ibid., 118, 133.

72 Ibid., 134.

73 Peck, ‘Jiidische DPs’, 206.

74 Gay, Safe, 68; Peck, 'Jiidische DPs’,

209.

75 Gay, Safe, 81, 83.

76 Ibid., 86-7; 96-7.

77 Ibid., 89.

CHAPTER 12: GUILT

1 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 330.

2 Ibid., 332, 334.

3 Normann, Tagebuch, 61.

4 Stern, Hidden Damage, 307.

5 Jiinger, Okkupation, 130.

6 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 72,

74 -

7 Karl Jaspers, Die Schuldfrage. Fur
Volkermord gibt es keine Verjdhrung,
Heidelberg 1946, 13

8 Ibid., 19.

9 Ibid.

10 Quoted in Kirkbright, Jaspers, 141,
193 -

11 Ibid., 197, 195; quoted in
Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 245;
Jaspers, Schuldfrage, 28—9.

12 Norbert Trippen, Josef Cardinal Frings

570

NOTES

(1887-1978). Sein Wirkenfur das
Erzbistum Koln und fiir die Kirche in
Deutschland, Paderborn, Munich,
Vienna and Zurich 2003, 132.

13 Ibid., 142.

14 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 76;
conversation with Karl-Heinz
Bohrer, 12 January 2005.

15 Kirkbright, Jaspers, 190.

16 Stern, Hidden Damage, 79—81.

17 Interview with Karl-Heinz Bohrer,
November 2004.

18 Abzug, Vicious Heart, x.

19 Ibid.

20 Ibid., 134—7.

21 Ibid., 128—32; Farago, Last Days, 58.

22 Shepherd, After Daybreak, 74—7.

23 James F. Tent, Mission on the Rhine:
Reeducation and Denazification in
American Occupied Germany, Chicago
and London 1982, 11, 14.

24 Edward N. Peterson, The American
Occupation of Germany: Retreat to
Victory, Detroit 1977, 115, 59; Frank
M. Buscher, The U.S. War Crimes
Trial Program in Germany ; 1946—1955,
New York, Westport and London
1989, 19.

25 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 35.

26 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 324.

27 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 82.

28 Stern, Hidden Damage, 120.

29 Justus Fiirstenau, Entnazifizierung. Ein
Kapitel deutscher Nachkriegspolitik,
Neuwied and Berlin 1969, 25.

30 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 339.

31 Jiinger, Okkupation, 153.

32 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 116.

33 Krauss, Heimkehr, 51.

34 Emmy Goering, My Life with
Goering, London 1972, 142.

35 Margret Boveri, Der Verrat im XX.
Jahrhundert —fur und gegen die Nation,
Hamburg 1956, 14.

36 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 253—4.

37 MacDonogh, A Good German, 71;
see also R. G. S. Weber, The German
Student Corps in the Third Reich,
London 1986.

38 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 103.

39 MacDonogh, Prussia, 192—3;
Hansgeorg Model, Der deutsche
Generalstabsojfzier. Seine Auswahl und
Ausbildung in Reichswehr, Wehrmacht
und Bundeswehr, Frankfurt/Main
1968, 135-9.

40 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 326 n. 1,
333 -

41 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifzuge, 166.

42 Peterson, American Occupation, 174,
216; Tent, Mission on the Rhine, 51.

43 Tent, Mission on the Rhine, 54—5.

44 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 273.

45 Clare, Berlin Days, 26—8.

46 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 104.

47 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 328—9;
Timothy R. Vogt, Denazification in
Soviet-Occupied Germany 1945—1948,
Cambridge, Mass, and London 2000,
7-8

48 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
174.

49 Bower, Blind Eye to Murder, 182—3,
221; Wolfgang Kruger,

Entnazifiziert!: Zur Praxis der politis-
chen Sauberung in Nordrhein- Westfalen,
Wuppertal 1982, 14-15.

50 Vogt, Denazification, 2—3, 71.

51 Kruger, Entnazifiziert!, 11.

52 Clare, Berlin Days, 112—13.

53 Ruge, ed., Schulenburg, 91.

54 Ibid., 91-2.

55 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 251—2.

56 Ibid., 309.

57 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 140—1;
Zuckmayer, ‘Jugend im
Niemandsland’.

58 Franz von Papen, Memoirs, translated
by Brian Connell, London 1952,
577 - 8 .

59 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,
261—2.

60 Goering, My Life with Goering, 168.

61 Nike Wagner, The Wagners — The
Dramas of a Musical Dynasty, London
2000, 226.

62 Hamann, Winifred Wagner, 403;
Spotts, Bayreuth, 199.

571

NOTES

63 Hamann, Winifred Wagner, 406, 408.

64 Ibid., 410-11.

65 Franz Endler, Herbert von Karajan: My
Autobiography , London 1989, 46.

66 Lang, ‘Lieber Herr Celibidache’, 48—50.

67 Ibid., 58.

68 Davidson, Death and Life, 127—8.

69 Peterson, Russian Commands, 84—5.

70 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 46—7.

71 Ibid., 102.

72 Ibid., 130, 141.

73 Ibid., 433; II, 624.

74 Ibid., 224-5.

75 Peterson, American Occupation, 93.

76 Buscher, War Crimes Trial Program,

49 , 60.

77 Clare, Berlin Days, 206—10.

78 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 98-100.

79 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, no.

80 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
147-8.

81 Ibid., 209, 243.

82 Ibid., 109, 112.

83 Ibid. 153, 152 n. 1.

84 Ibid., 390.

85 Bethouart, Bataille, 120.

86 Richard Dove, Foreword to Bearman
et al., Wien—London, 11.

87 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 115—17.

88 Blake Baker, ‘Zur Arbeit der Field
Security Service im Steirischen
Grenzland', in Beer, ed.. Die
‘Britische Steiermark’, 608.

89 Beer, ‘Die Briten’, 130— 1.

90 Ibid., 122.

91 Beer, ‘Grossbritannien’, 65 n. 67.

92 Beer, ‘Die Briten’, 122-3.

93 Ibid., 125.

94 Wolfgang Muchitsch, ‘Das
Volksgericht Graz’, in Beer, Die
‘Britische Steiermark’, 43.

95 Beer, ‘Die Briten’, 153.

96 Lorenz Jager, Adorno — Eine politische
Biographie, Munich 2003, 223.

97 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 18—19.

98 Victor Gollancz, Leaving them to their
Fate: The Ethics of Starvation, London
1946, 4.

99 Ibid., 5-6, 12, 18.

100 Bullock, Bevin, 265.

101 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 24.

102 Ibid., 18.

103 Ibid., 14-15, 17.

104 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 415.

105 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 11.

106 Ibid., 12.

107 Ibid., 23-4.

108 Ibid., 38-9.

109 Ibid., 53-7.

110 Ibid., 64.
in Ibid., 66-7.

112 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 72.

113 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 29.

114 Ibid., 13—14.

115 Jiinger, Okkupation, 240.

116 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 151— 2,
161, 166, 179, 207.

117 Ibid., 212.

118 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 74.

119 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 264-5.

120 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 35—6.

121 Ibid., 164; Davidson, Death and Life,
137 -

122 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 48—9, 50—4,
59—60, 64.

123 Ibid., 60, 65-6, 70; Davidson, Death
and Life, 159.

124 Zuckmayer, ‘Deutschland, Sommer
1948: Jiingstes Gericht oder Stunde
Null?’, in Deutschlandbericht.

125 Trippen, Frings, 251.

126 Ibid., 174—5.

127 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 240.

128 Paul Dahm, Joseph Kardinal Frings,
Erzbischof von Koln, Munich 1957,
4 - 5 -

129 Ibid., 21—2.

130 Quoted in ibid., 22.

131 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 43, 45.

132 Davidson, Death and Life, 21, 54.

133 Meehan, Strange Enemy People,

41—2.

134 Radley, ‘British Military
Government’, 583.

135 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 29.

136 KardorfF, Aufzeichnungen, 332; Clare,
Berlin Days, 34, 55.

137 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 44;

572

NOTES

Boveri, Tage, 286; Clare, Berlin Days,
16, 55, 60.

138 Clare, Berlin Days, 54.

139 Ibid., 17-18.

140 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 82; Stern,
Hidden Damage, 273.

141 Stern, Hidden Damage, 286.

CHAPTER 13: BLACK MARKET

1 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 167,
169; Heinrich Boll, When the War
was Over.

2 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifziiger, 171.

3 Heinrich Boll, ‘Wanderer, kommst
du nach Spa . . .’, in his Erzahlungen,
Munich 1997, 14—15.

4 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 192.

5 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 335—6.

6 Ibid., 211—13.

7 Stern, Hidden Damage, 130—5.

8 Ibid., 68.

9 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 122.

10 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 6.

11 Hans Habe, In American Uniform,
quoted in ibid., 123.

12 Ibid., 12.

13 Zuckmayer, ‘Jugend in
Niemandsland’.

14 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 142.

15 Ibid., 152.

16 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 76—8.

17 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 119.

18 Jiinger, Okkupation, 235—6.

19 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 143—9.

20 Ibid., 155.

21 Cullen, Reichstag, 399—401.

22 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 92, 94—5.

23 Ibid., 102.

24 Ibid., 170.

25 Mosely, Report from Germany, 46—7,
55, 80-1.

26 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 260;
Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 164.

27 Boelcke, Schwarzmarkt, 206—7.

28 Skrjabina, Allies on the Rhine, 81.

29 Davidson, Death and Life, 84—5.

30 Klimov, Terror Machine, 178.

31 Ibid., 128, 134, 160.

32 Meehan, Strange Enemy People, 116,
130.

33 Gerhard Keiderling, ‘Der A 1 Capone
vom Alexanderplatz’, in www.luise-
berlin.de

CHAPTER 14: LIGHT FINGERS

1 Konstantin Akinscha and Grigori
Koslow, Beutekunst — Auf Schatzsuche
in russischen Geheimdepots, Munich
1995, 61, 68.

2 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 68, 84,

268; Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 40.

3 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst, 24,
97—100.

4 Ibid., 103-5.

5 Ibid., 94-5, 113-15-

6 Ibid., 112—13, 116.

7 See Giles MacDonogh, Translator s
Preface to Henrik Eberle and
Matthias Uhl, eds, The Hitler Book,
London 2005.

8 Eberle and Uhl, eds, Das Buck Hitler,
Afterword, 462—78 passim.

9 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst, 95,
122-3.

10 Friedrich, Shauplatz Berlin, 33.

11 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst,
126—7.

12 Ibid., 129—33; A. A. Lowenthal, ‘Der
Hitler-Affe: Ein Zwischenfall in
Schlesien’, in Gesammelte Schriften,
Tubingen 1965, VI, 636—43.

13 Giles MacDonogh, ‘Parlour Games’,
Guardian, 20 December 2003.

Damon de Laszlo, the artist s grand¬
son, maintains that it is doubtful that
Red Army officers carried swords,
and it may well be that the damage
to the painting was incurred in quite
another way. On the other hand, we
know that the Russians carried all
sorts of weapons as trophies.

14 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst,
106—9, and authors visits to
Rheinsberg.

573

NOTES

15 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst,
145-8.

16 Ibid., 151. Akinscha and Koslow
have Rudolf’s name as Robert. See
Sophie Lillie, Was einmal war:
Handbuch der enteigneten
Kunstsammlungen Wiens, Vienna
2003, 439 - 42 , 463 - 5 -

17 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst,

136, 138-9, 172-5, 176.

18 Ibid., 160—1.

19 Naimark, Russians in Germany,

167-8.

20 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst,

167; Giles MacDonogh, ‘Vichy’s last
stand: a prince’s story’, Financial
Times, 5 October 1996 — interview
with Friedrich Wilhelm Fiirst von
Hohenzollern; MacDonogh, Frederick
the Great, 8; see E. Grosetti and M.
Matronola, II bombardimento di Monte
Cassino, diario di Guerra,

Montecassino 1997.

21 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 232.

22 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 173.

23 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifzuge, 156—7.

24 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 273;
Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 40;
Botting, Ruins, 16.

25 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifziiger, 187—8.

26 Ibid., 182—4.

27 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 107.

28 Meehan, Strange Enemy, 119, 121,

125.

29 Clare, Berlin Days, 28—9.

30 Meehan, Strange Enemy, 210—11.

31 Bar-Zohar, Hunt for German Scientists,
132.

32 Franz Kurowski, Alliierte Jagd auf
deutsche Wissenschaftler. Das
Unternehmen Paperclip, Munich 1982,
8 .

33 Bar-Zohar, Hunt for German Scientists,
10.

34 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 149.

CHAPTER 15: WHERE ARE
OUR MEN?

1 Arthur L. Smith, Die Vermisste
Million’ — Zur Schicksal deutscher
Kriegsgefangener nach dem Zweiten
Weltkrieg, Munich 1992, 10.

2 Wolfgang Benz and Angelika
Schardt, eds, Kriegsgefangenschaft:
Berichte uber das Leben in
Gefangenlagern der Alliierten von Otto
Engelbert, Kurt Glaser, Hans Johnitz
und Heinz Pust, Munich 1991, 7.

3 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 20; Kurt
W. Bohme and Helmut Wolf,
Aufzeichnungen uber die
Kriegsgefangenschaft im Wes ten,
Munich 1973, xiii.

4 Ibid., xiv.

5 Davidson, Death and Life, 5; Smith,
Die vermisste Million, 18, 21.

6 Speer, Diaries, 41.

7 Benz and Schardt, eds,
Kriegsgefangenschaft, 7.

8 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
xiv.

9 Jager, Adorno, 224.

10 Smith, Die Vermisste Million, 57, 62,
63 n. 29.

11 Benz and Schardt,

Kriegsgefangenschaft, 8.

12 De Zayas, Nemesis at Potsdam, xxv.

13 Ibid., 8—9.

14 Ibid., 10; Erich Maschke, ed., Zur
Geschichte des Deutschen
Kriegsgefangenen des Zweiten
Weltkrieges, vol. XV: Die deutschen
Kriegsgefangenen des Zweiten
Weltkrieges — Eine Zusammenfassung,
Munich 1967, 35.

15 Ibid., 11.

16 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 9 n. 2.

17 James Bacque, Other Losses — An
Investigation into the Mass Death of
German Prisoners of War after World
War II, London 1991, 45.

18 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 11, 101.

19 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 252, 267.

20 Benz and Schardt, eds,

574

NOTES

Kriegsgefangenschaft, 7—8.

21 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 30.

22 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 225.

23 Kurt Glaser, ‘Kriegsgefangener auf
drei Kontinenten’, in ibid., 202.

24 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
142.

25 Ibid., 143-4.

26 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 24.

27 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
225.

28 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 25.

29 Ibid., 40 n. 13; Bohme and Wolf,
Aufzeichnungen, 225—6.

30 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 37.

31 Ibid., 43-6, 86.

32 Ibid., 26.

33 Farago, Last Days, 153m

34 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 47.

35 Salomon, The Answers, 440.

36 Ibid., 442.

37 Ibid., 447.

38 Ibid., 453.

39 Hans Johnitz, ‘In amerikanischer und
franzozischer Kriegsgefangenschaft’,
in Benz and Schardt, eds,
Kriegsgefangenschaft, 85—6.

40 Salomon, The Answers, 498.

41 Ibid., 505-6.

42 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,
258-9.

43 Salomon, The Answers, 536.

44 Schwerin von Krosigk, Memoiren,

259, 262.

45 Jan-Werner Muller, A Dangerous
Mind: Carl Schmitt in Post- War
European Thought, 3.

46 Salomon, The Answers, 541.

47 Papen, Memoirs, 578-9.

48 Salomon, The Answers, 542; Speer,
Diaries, 25.

49 Salomon, The Answers, 543—4.

50 Webmaster Kriegsgefangener, de

51 Ian Sayer and Douglas Botting,

Hitler’s Last General — The Case against
Wilhelm Mohnke, London 1989, 265.

52 Preussen, Hohenzollern, 191—2; infor¬
mation from the late Prince Kraft zu
Hohenlohe-Langenburg.

53 Herzogin Viktoria Luise, Ein Lehen,
318.

54 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifzuger, 158.

55 Paul Schmidt, Hitler’s Interpreter,
edited by R. H. C. Steed, London
1951, 280—1; Smith, ed., Clay Papers,
II, 578.

56 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 269.

57 R. T. Paget, Manstein — His
Campaigns and his Trial, London
1951, 109.

58 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 270—1,
282.

59 Bower, Blind Eye to Murder, 134.

60 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 1054—5.

61 Gibson-Watt, An Undistinguished Life,
170.

62 Ruge, ed., Schulenburg, 62—5.

63 Ibid., 70.

64 Ibid., 66.

65 Ibid., 66—7.

66 Shepherd, After Daybreak, 5 5.

67 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 210.

68 Ibid., 225.

69 David Irving, Coring — A Biography,
London 1989, 478.

70 WW2 Memories Project — Le Marchant
POW Camp; Terence Prittie in
http:/ / www.royalpioneercorps.co.uk
/r pc/historv germanguns.htm

71 Leighton-Langer, X, 239—42.

72 Brian Bond, ‘Brauchitsch’, in
Correlli Barnett, ed., Hitler’s Generals,
London 1990, 95.

73 Rowland Ryder, Ravenstein —
Portrait of a German General, New
York 1978, 170—1.

74 Ibid., 171.

75 Samuel W. Mitcham, Jnr, ‘Arnim’, in
Barnett, ed., Hitler’s Generals, 353.

76 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
xiii.

77 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 24.

78 Glaser, ‘Kriegsgefangener’, 208—12,
215, 218, 225.

79 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,

170.

80 Ibid., 174.

81 Ibid., 174, 178.

575

NOTES

82 Ibid., 175, 180—1.

83 Dahm, Frings, 27—8, 34.

84 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 90—1.

85 Ibid., 91.

86 Ibid., 95, 190, 265; Document, BBC
Radio 4, 9 January 2006, dedicated a
programme to British torturers, and
mentioned Scotland in that context.

87 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 97.

88 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 24.

89 Meehan, Strange Enemy People,

27-8.

90 Ibid., 38.

91 Ibid., 70, 73, 76-7.

92 Ibid., 86.

93 Ibid., 68.

94 Ian Cobain, ‘The Interrogation
Camp that Turned Prisoners into
Living Skeletons’, Guardian, Saturday
17 December 2005. I am grateful to
Nick Jacobs for drawing my attention
to this article; Document, BBC Radio
4, 9 January 2006; see also Meehan,
Strange Enemy People, 82—6, who saw
the papers long before the newspa¬
pers or the BBC.

95 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 30—1.

96 Salomon, The Answers, 530—1; the
events are substantiated by a film in
the American archives that was seen
by Jeremy Murray-Brown in July
1992 — untitled web document; see
also Nicholas Bethell, The Last Secret,
London 1974, and Tolstoy, Victims of
Yalta; also Botting, Ruins; Keeling,
Gruesome Harvest.

97 Salomon, The Answers, 534; Murray-
Brown, op. cit.

98 Johnitz, ‘Kriegsgefangenschaft’,

102.

99 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
285m

100 Ibid., xiii; Smith, Die vermisste
Million, 31.

101 Smith, Die vermisste Million, 32;
Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 197.

102 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 22 6.

103 Salomon, The Answers, 362.

104 Johnitz, ‘Kriegsgefangenschaft’, 102.

105 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
427.

106 Ibid., 427, is another case.

107 Ibid., 391.

108 Ibid., 102, 114.

109 Ibid., 275, 279, 282.

no Ibid., 284, 290.

in Ibid., 290—2, 293—4; The Progressive,
14 January 1946, quoted in Keeling,
Gruesome Harvest, 21.

112 Bohme and Wolf, Aufzeichnungen,
291.

113 Ibid., 217.

114 Ibid., 223—4.

115 Ibid., 219—22.

116 Ibid., 251—5.

117 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 226.

118 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 18.

119 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 224.

120 Ibid., 196—7.

121 Krockow, Hour of the Women, 202.

122 Herzogin Viktoria Luise, Ein Eehen,
324 - 5 -

123 Samuel W. Mitcham, Jnr, ‘Kleist’, in
Barnett, ed., Hitler’s Generals, 259.

124 Ibid., 260.

125 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 236.

126 Ibid., 317.

127 Heinz Pust, ‘Als Kriegsgefangener in
der Sowjetunion. Errinerungen
1945—1953’, in Benz and Schardt,
eds, Kriegsgefangenschaft, 22, 29.

128 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 180—1.

129 Pust, ‘Sowjetunion’, 32.

130 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 331.

131 Pust, ‘Sowjetunion’, 33—5.

132 Ibid., 43-4.

133 Ibid., 75-6.

134 Ibid., 81—2.

135 Smith, ed., Clay Papers , II, 789—80.

136 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 225.

137 Ibid., 196-7.

138 Ibid.

139 Ibid., 225.

140 Ibid., 224.

141 Information from my friend Janez
Fajfar, general manager of the Villa
Bled Hotel, who showed me the
room and Tito’s desk. The former

576

NOTES

POWs frequently returned to point
out to their wives and children their
portraits among the figures in the
battle scene.

142 Maschke, Zusammenfassung, 197.

143 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 88.

144 Wolfgang Borchert, Das Gesamtwerk,
Hamburg 1970, 102.

145 Ibid., 172.

CHAPTER 16: THE TRIALS

1 Davidson, Death and Life, 100 n. 4;
Bower, Blind Eye to Murder, 29—30.

2 MacDonogh, The Last Kaiser, 422,
423, 424; Hilberg, Destruction, III,
1142.

3 Davidson, Death and Life, 105;
Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1142;
papers released by the National
Archive at the end of 2005 show
that Churchill had always been in
favour of executing the Nazi leaders.
The fact that only the second tier of
Nazis were captured may have
altered his thinking in favour of a
trial: Sunday Times, 1 January 2006.

4 Paget, Manstein, 139.

5 Ibid., 155; this was from Paget’s
defence submission.

6 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1145.

7 Ibid.

8 Ibid., 1099.

9 Ibid., 1130—1, 1152.

10 Quoted in Paget, Manstein, 67, also
154 -

11 Ibid., 68.

12 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 441.

13 Paget, Manstein, 86—7.

14 Ibid., 69—70.

15 Ibid., 80.

16 Information from Ian Maxwell, who
also informed the author that his
father had told him that Trevor-
Roper was called in to interrogate
major war criminals.

17 Leighton-Langer, X, 235.

18 Ibid.

19 West, The Meaning of Treason, 132—3.

20 Papen, Memoirs, 551.

21 Peter Padfield, Himmler — Reichsfiihrer
SS, London, 1990, 610.

22 Ibid., 609—11; Anthony Read, The
Devil’s Disciples — The Lives and Times
of Hitler’s Inner Circle, London 2003,
914-15.

23 Willi Frischauer, Goering, London
1950, 277.

24 Irving, Goring, 465—70; Frischauer,
Goering, 274—6.

25 Irving, Goring, 470—1, 478; Goering,
My Life with Goering, London 1972,
136.

26 Frischauer, Goering, 280.

27 Read, The Devil’s Disciples, 3.

28 Speer, Diaries, 65.

29 Papen, Memoirs, 541.

30 Speer, Diaries, 3.

31 Irving, Goring, 477, 480.

32 Papen, Memoirs, 563.

33 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1157.

34 Speer, Diaries, 37.

35 Papen, Memoirs, 546.

36 Karl Donitz, Mein Wechselvolles Lehen,
Zurich, Berlin and Frankfurt 1968,
212—14.

37 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 296—7.

38 Speer, Diaries, 3.

39 Peter Padfield, Hess — The Fuhrer’s
Disciple, London 1995, 303—4, 312.

40 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1156.

41 Irving, Goring, 484.

42 Ibid., 489; Papen, Memoirs, 574.

43 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 146.

44 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 298—9.

45 Papen, Memoirs, 559.

46 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 301, 305.

47 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1149.

48 Irving, Goring, 487.

49 Padfield, Hess, 310—11; G. M.

Gilbert, Nuremberg Diary, New York
1947, 45-6.

50 Frischauer, Goering, 291.

51 Ibid., 295; Gilbert, Nuremberg Diary,
50 .

52 See Peter Maguire, Law and War,

577

NOTES

New York 2001. I am grateful to
Sebastian Cody for directing me to
this work.

53 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1149; Tom
Lampert, Ein einziges Leben —
Qeschichten aus der NS-Zeit, Munich
2003, 204—29, portrays von dem
Bach as a man suffering from psy¬
chosomatic illness as a result of the
demands made upon him by
Himmler.

54 Irving made this statement in The
Reichsmarschall’s Table, BBC Radio 4,
15 March 2005, written and pre¬
sented by Giles MacDonogh, and
produced by Dennis Sewell.

55 Irving, Goring, 492—3; Frischauer,
Goering, 292; Walter Gorlitz, ‘The
Desk Generals — Keitel, Jodi and
Warlimont’, in Barnett, ed., Hitler’s
Generals, 153—4.

56 Speer, Diaries, 13.

57 Papen, Memoirs, 551—3.

58 Frischauer, Goering, 296.

59 Papen, Memoirs, 565.

60 Irving, Goring, 495; Frischauer,
Goering, 297.

61 Frischauer, Goering, 295; Read, The
Devil’s Disciples, 9.

62 Frischauer, Goering, 297.

63 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1136.

64 Speer, Diaries, 52.

65 Ibid., 45.

66 Ibid., 499.

67 Skrjabina, Allies on the Rhine, 77.

68 Helmuth Auerbach, ‘Que faire de
FAllemagne’, in Manfrass and Rioux,
eds, France—Allemagne, 293.

69 Speer, Diaries, 4.

70 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 147.

71 Hilberg, Destruction, III, 1151.

72 Ibid., 11, 14.

73 Werner Maser, Niirnberg, Tribunal der
Sieger, Munich and Zurich 1979, 7;
Read, The Devil’s Disciples, 923.

74 Speer, Diaries, 11.

CHAPTER 17: THE LITTLE FISH

1 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 247 and n.
3; Buscher, War Crimes Trial Program,
30 .

2 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 420.

3 Maser, Niirnberg, 434—42.

4 Speer, Diaries, 26.

5 Ibid., 32.

6 Ibid., 35.

7 Eberle and Uhl, eds, Das Buch Hitler,

23 6.

8 Miihlen, Krupp, 195.

9 Ibid., 200.

10 Hans Laternser, Verteidigung deutsche
Soldaten: Playdoyers vor Alliierten
Gerichten, Bonn 1950, 111, 126,
146-7, 153.

11 Ibid., 339.

12 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 262, 310.

13 Miihlen, Krupp, 213.

14 Ibid., 220.

15 Ibid., 214.

16 Wachsmann, Hitler’s Prisons, 343.

17 Carl Haensel, Das Gericht vertagt sich.
Tagebuch eines Verteidigers bei den
Nurnberger Prozessen, Wiesbaden and
Munich 1980, 17.

18 Margret Boveri, Der Diplomat vor
Gericht, Berlin and Hanover, 1948,

44.

19 Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten, 119; Boveri,
Der Diplomat vor Gericht, 18.

20 Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten, 121.

21 Quoted in Boveri, Der Diplomat vor
Gericht, 17-18.

22 Ibid., 29.

23 Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten, 122.

24 Boveri, Der Diplomat vor Gericht, 17.

25 Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten, 122; Boveri,
Der Diplomat vor Gericht, 18.

26 Weizsacker, Vier Zeiten, 125—6.

27 Paget, Manstein, 171.

28 Ibid., 169—72. It should be said that
this sort of argument has always been
very pleasing to the revisionists, and
that Paget is quoted and lauded on
David Irving s website for saying that
the figure of six million murdered

578

NOTES

Jews was incorrect; Hilberg,
Destruction, III, 1158.

29 Earl F. Ziemke, ‘Rundstedt’, in
Barnett, ed., Hitler’s Generals, 201.

30 See Shepherd, After Daybreak,

166—75.

31 Tighe, Gdansk, 201.

32 Eberle and Uhl, eds, Das Buck Hitler,
238—9; MacDonogh, Prussia, 376.

33 Paget, Manstein, 77.

34 Ibid., 78, 79.

35 Shelford Bidwell, ‘Kesselring’, in
Barnett, ed., Hitler’s Generals, 288.

36 Berber, Dachau, 200.

37 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 278.

38 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 1041—3.

39 Buscher, War Crimes Trial Program,

38 .

40 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 880—1,
889.

41 Ibid., 1007; Robert Wistrich, Who’s
Who in Nazi Germany, London 1995,
142-3.

42 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 283;
Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 671.

43 Sayer and Botting, Mohnke, 91—2.

44 Ibid., 183m

45 Ibid., 226.

46 Ibid.

47 Hamann, Winifred Wagner, 420—1.

48 Ibid., 423-5.

49 Ibid., 428—9.

50 Ibid., 438.

51 Ibid., 352.

52 Ibid., 345.

53 Idem, 356—8.

54 Fiirstenau, Entnazifizierung, 231.

55 Maser, Nurnberg, 433; Wachsmann,
Hitler’s Prisons, 344.

CHAPTER 18: PEACEMAKING
IN POTSDAM

1 Hanna Grisebach quoted in Inge
Hoeftmann and Waltraud Noack,
eds, Potsdam in alten und neuen
Reisebeschreibungen, Diisseldorf 1992,
226.

2 Hanna Grisebach, Potsdamer Tagebuch,
with an Afterword by Hilde Domin,
Heidelberg 1974, 23.

3 Ibid., 22.

4 Ibid., 48.

5 Ibid., 29, 32.

6 Quoted in Hoeftmann and Noack,
eds, Potsdam, 235.

7 Grisebach, Tagebuch, 35.

8 Ibid., 38—9.

9 Ibid., 44.

10 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 438.

11 See Ingeborg Fleischhauer, Die
Chance des Sonderfriedens:
Deutsch—sowjetische Geheimgesprache
1941—1945, Berlin 1986; Hugh
Trevor-Roper, The Last Days of
Hitler, 7th edn, London 1995, 29;
MacDonogh, Translators Preface to
Eberle and Uhl, The Hitler Book, xx.

12 Eberle and Uhl, Das Buck Hitler. See
in particular the editors’ Afterword,
495 - 6 .

13 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 429, 453.

14 Ibid., 430.

15 Ibid., 435.

16 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 17.

17 Zhukov, Reminis censes, II, 433.

18 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 19.

19 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
39 -

20 Young, France, 61.

21 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 18, 21;
Bullock, Bevin, 17.

22 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 434, 437.

23 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 331, 334.

24 Bullock, Bevin, 17.

25 Henry H. Adams, Harry Hopkins,
New York 1977, 391.

26 Averall Harriman Foreword to ibid.,
19 -

27 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 440.

28 Adams, Hopkins, 392.

29 Ibid., 382.

30 Ibid., 377.

31 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 57—9.

32 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 22—4.

33 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 52—3; Naimark,
Russians in Germany, 146.

579

NOTES

34 Henke, ‘Potsdam’, 54.

35 Akinscha and Koslow, Beutekunst,
99—100.

36 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 11—12.

37 Quoted in Boveri, Tage, 157, 170.

38 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 50—1.

39 Ritchie, Faust’s Metropolis, 629, men¬
tions the geraniums; Harry S.
Truman, Memoirs, 2 vols, vol. I: 1945,
Year of Decisions, London 1955, 268,
the other flora.

40 Zhukov in Hoeftmann and Noack,
eds, Potsdam, 240.

41 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 441—3.

42 Grisebach, Tagebuch, 49—50.

43 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 441.

44 Truman, Memoirs, I, 258.

45 Ibid., 262.

46 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 94.

47 Truman, Memoirs, I, 266, 265.

48 Truman in Hoeftmann and Noack,
eds, Potsdam, 245.

49 Truman, Memoirs, I, 265.

50 Foschepoth, ‘Potsdam’, 71—2.

51 Ibid., 72-4.

52 Truman in Hoeftmann and Noack,
eds, Potsdam, 246; Truman, I, 267.

53 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 85.

54 Truman, Memoirs, I, 279.

55 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 68.

56 Truman, Memoirs, I, 270.

57 Ibid., 275.

58 Grisebach, Tagebuch, 47.

59 Kardorff, Aufzeichnungen, 337;
Amanda Holden, The New Penguin
Opera Guide, London, 2001, 1037.

60 Truman, Memoirs, 278.

61 Ibid.

62 Ibid., 281, 285.

63 Ibid., 286; Byrnes, Speaking Frankly,
68—9; Davidson, Death and Life, 64.

64 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 79—80;
Truman, Memoirs, I, 293.

65 Truman, Memoirs, I, 293.

66 Ibid., 294.

67 Ibid.

68 Ibid., 295.

69 Ibid.

70 Ibid., 296.

71 Bullock, Bevin, 24.

72 Ibid., 22.

73 Truman, Memoirs, I, 297.

74 Ibid., 297—8.

75 Ibid., 300.

76 De Zayas, Nemesis at Potsdam, 50.

77 Truman, Memoirs, I, 303, 305;

Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 76.

78 Truman, Memoirs, I, 315—16.

79 Ibid., 317; Bullock, Bevin, 25.

80 Truman, Memoirs, I, 322—3.

81 Peter Weiler, Ernest Bevin,
Manchester and New York 1993,
144 - 5 .

82 Ibid., 145—6.

83 Bullock, Bevin, 25.

84 Weiler, Bevin, 147—8.

85 Ibid., 148—9.

86 Bullock, Bevin, 25.

87 Truman, Memoirs, I, 327.

88 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 451.

89 Truman in Hoeftmann and Noack,
eds, Potsdam, 251.

90 Grisebach, Tagebuch, 70.

91 Truman, Memoirs, I, 329—30.

92 Kaps, Tragodie, 69.

93 Truman, Memoirs, I, 329—30.

94 Ibid., 331.

95 Bullock, Bevin, 28; Truman, Memoirs,
I, 335 -

96 Truman, Memoirs, I, 341.

97 Davies and Moorhouse, Microcosm,
4 I 4 -I 5 .

98 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 448.

99 Ibid., 414—16.

100 Truman, Memoirs, I, 337.

101 Ibid., 338.

102 Ibid., 339-40.

103 Zhukov, Reminiscences, II, 416—17.

104 Young, France, 62.

105 Ibid., 62, 64.

106 Davidson, Death and Life, 60.

107 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 73.

108 Kennan, Memoirs, 258—9.

109 Ibid., 263—6.

no Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 92, 103.
in Grisebach, Tagebuch, 54.

580

NOTES

CHAPTER 19: THE GREAT
FREEZE

1 Mastny, Cold War , 23.

2 Ibid., 4, 6.

3 Young, France, 70—1.

4 Ibid., 74.

5 Buffet, Berlin, 360; Ritchie, Faust’s
Metropolis, 638.

6 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 207.

7 Weiler, Bevin, 153—4.

8 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 133.

9 Harry S. Truman, Memoirs, vol. II:
1946 — 1953, Years of Trial and Hope,
London 1955, 100.

10 Kennan, Memoirs, 257.

11 Clare, Berlin Days, 193.

12 Weiler, Bevin, 154.

13 Kennan, Memoirs, 258.

14 Bullock, Bevin, 9, 11.

15 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 48.

16 Weiler, Bevin, 154.

17 Kennan, Memoirs, 253—4.

18 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, v ii—viii.

19 Ibid., 5, 8.

20 Siegfried Beer, ‘Die Besatzungsmacht
Grossbritannien und Osterreich
1945—1949’, in Ableitner et al., Oster¬
reich unter alliierter Besatzung, 47.

21 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, m—12,

118.

22 Grand, Teilung Deutschlands, 165, 182.

23 Ibid., 48—50; David Dilks, ed., The
Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan
O.M., ig^8~45, London 1971, 778.

24 Foschepoth, ‘Potsdam’, 76, 79.

25 Bullock, Bevin, 268; Smith, ed., Clay
Papers, I, 255.

26 Ibid., 257.

27 Weiler, Bevin, 159—60.

28 Bullock, Bevin, 309.

29 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 319; Byrnes,
Speaking Frankly, 190—1.

30 Morgan, Byrnes, Clay, 319.

31 Ibid., 334—5, 338; Weiler, Bevin,
160—2.

32 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 192;
Gulgowski, ‘American Military
Government’, 10.

33 Keeling, Gruesome Harvest, 10.

34 Dos Passos, Tour of Duty, 321—2.

35 Grand, Teilung Deutschlands, 105—7,
109.

36 Rathkolb, ‘Historische Fragmente’,
146.

37 Alfons Gruber, Geschichte Siidtirols—
Streifziige durch das 20. Jahrhundert,
Bolzano 2002, 103.

38 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 90.

39 Rathkolb, ed., Gesellschaft und Politik,
192.

40 Ibid., 406.

41 Scharf, Wiederaufrichtung, 121.

42 Bethouart, Bataille, 109.

43 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 90.

44 Ibid., 107.

45 Denis Mack Smith, Modern Italy: A
Political History, New Haven and
London 1997, 421—2.

46 Buffet, Berlin, 366—7.

47 Naimark, Russians in Germany, 90.

48 Speer, Diaries, 62.

49 Staritz, DDR, 18.

50 Davidson, Death and Life, 129.

51 Brigadier-General Frank Howley,
Berlin Command, New York 1950,

10.

52 Ibid., 136.

53 Sayn-Wittgenstein, Streifziige, 174.

54 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 83—4.

55 Anonymous, A Woman in Berlin, 50,
100.

56 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 105;
Christabel Bielenberg, The Past is
Myself, London 1985, 285.

57 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 151—2.

58 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandhericht, 86.

59 Speer, Diaries, 29—31.

60 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 158—9,
161.

61 Speer, Diaries, 34.

62 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 166.

63 Mastny, Cold War, 25. On Soviet
Russia’s long-term plans, see
Wolfgang Mueller, ‘Stalin and
Austria: New Evidence on Soviet
Policy in a Secondary Theatre of the
Cold War, 1938-1953/1955’, Cold

581

NOTES

War History , vol. 6, no. i, February
2006, 63-84.

64 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 113.

65 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin , 170—1.

66 Ibid., 172-3.

67 Ibid., 174—6.

68 Zuckmayer, Deutschlandbericht, 87.

69 Bethouart, Bataille , 87.

70 Obituary, Josefine Hawelka, The
Times, Saturday 26 March 2005.

71 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 213, 226,
230.

72 Ibid., 248.

73 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 182.

74 Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, 198.

75 Clark, Calculated Risk, 439-42.

76 Mastny, Cold War, 26-9.

77 Ibid., 40-1.

78 Balfour and Mair, Four Power Control,
279.

79 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4,

111-12.

80 Ibid., 112.

81 Ibid., 361-2.

82 Wagnleitner, ed., Herz, 401—3,

606-7.

83 See Staritz, DDR, 15.

84 Ibid., 17.

85 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 186, 198.

86 Staritz, DDR, 18.

87 Ibid., 21.

CHAPTER 20: THE BERLIN
AIRLIFT AND THE
BEGINNINGS OF ECONOMIC
RECOVERY

1 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 434, 439.

2 Ibid., 441.

3 Ibid., 444 - 5 -

4 Ibid., 447.

5 Ibid., 452.

6 Ibid., 453 - 4 -

7 Mastny, Cold War, 48.

8 Davidson, Death and Life, 224.

9 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 274, 276,
302; Skrjabina, Allies on the Rhine, 82,
95 -

10 Skrjabina, Allies on the Rhine, 114;
Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 230.

11 Howley, Berlin Command, 186.

12 Ibid., 329.

13 Staritz, DDR, 23.

14 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 249.

15 Ruge, ed., Schulenburg, 92.

16 Willy Brandt and Richard
Lowenthal, Ernst Reuter. Ein Lehen fiir
die Freiheit, Munich 1957, 358—60.

17 Mastny, Cold War, 41.

18 Ibid., 48.

19 Howley, Berlin Command, 177.

20 Kennan, Memoirs, 420; Bullock,

Bevin, 574.

21 Bullock, Bevin, 571.

22 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 478, 483.

23 Mastny, Cold War, 50.

24 Ibid., 49.

25 Bullock, Bevin, 566, 573; Grand,
Teilung Deutschlands, 199.

26 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, I, 206, 201.

27 Ibid. 567; II, 612.

28 Quoted in Ann and John Tusa, The
Berlin Blockade. Berlin in 1948. The
Year the Cold War Threatened to Become
Hot, London 1989, 138.

29 Mastny, Cold War, 46—7.

30 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 597,

599 -

31 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 220—8.

32 Truman, Memoirs, II, 131.

33 Young, France, 198—9.

34 Howley, Berlin Command, 3—4.

35 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 600—2.

36 Ibid., 602—5.

37 Ibid., 605.

38 Ibid., 605, 607.

39 Ibid., 618, 621 n. 2; Davidson, Death
and Life, 211.

40 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 649—50,
661, 677.

41 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 238.

42 Volker Koop, Tagehuch der Berliner
Blockade. Von Schwarzmarkt und
Rollkommandos, Berghau und
Bienenzucht, Bonn 1998, 11.

43 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 236.

44 Ibid., 237, 238.

582

NOTES

45 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 700.

46 Howley, Berlin Command, 196—7,
199—200.

47 Bullock, Bevin, 573 and n. 1.

48 Weiler, Bevin, 179.

49 Bullock, Bevin, 576.

50 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 238—9.

51 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 166—7.

52 Truman, Memoirs, II, 130.

53 Ibid.

54 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 248;
Howley, Berlin Command, 239.

55 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 246.

56 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 709, 711,
714 -

57 Staritz, DDR, 26

58 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 248.

59 Staritz, DDR, 23.

60 Howley, Berlin Command, 209.

61 Lang, ‘Lieber Herr Celibidache’, no.

62 Koop, Tagebuch, 18, 24.

63 Truman, Memoirs, II, 130.

64 Howley, Berlin Command, 202.

65 Truman, Memoirs, II, 132.

66 Ibid., 135.

67 Smith, ed.. Clay Papers, II, 746.

68 Davidson, Death and Life, 217;
Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 242.

69 Truman, Memoirs, II, 132.

70 Smith, ed.. Clay Papers, II, 763—4.

71 Koop, Tagebuch, 41.

72 Smith, ed.. Clay Papers, II, 798, 820.

73 Ibid., 824.

74 Ibid., 831-2.

75 Ibid., 834, 844.

76 Mastny, Cold War, 52.

77 Friedrich, Schauplatz Berlin, 260.

78 Buffet, Berlin, 369.

79 Goedde, GIs and Germans, 185, 187;
Howley, Berlin Command, 218.

80 Koop, Tagebuch, 55—6.

81 Smith, ed.. Clay Papers, II, 856—7.

82 Ibid., 858, 860.

83 Truman, Memoirs, II, 136.

84 Davidson, Death and Life, 209.

85 Smith, ed.. Clay Papers, II, 908.

86 Koop, Tagebuch, 124—5.

87 Smith, ed.. Clay Papers, II, 928.

88 Howley, Berlin Command, 226.

89 Tent, Mission, 288.

90 Koop, Tagebuch, 133, pours a little
cold water on this ‘legend’.

91 Davidson, Life and Death, 216; Clare,
Berlin Days, 185; Tusa and Tusa,
Berlin Blockade, 330, 389—90.

92 Staritz, DDR, 33.

93 Koop, Tagebuch, 139.

94 Speer, Diaries, 115.

95 Ibid,, 122.

96 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 1015.

97 Ibid., 1063.

98 Kennan, Memoirs, 429.

99 Ibid., 431-2.

100 Mastny, Cold War, 62.

101 Tusa and Tusa, Berlin Blockade, 395.

102 Clark, Calculated Risk, 429—30.

103 Smith, ed., Clay Papers, II, 625;
Brook-Shepherd, Austrians, 395.

104 Bethouart, Bataille, 153.

105 Ibid., 157.

106 Ibid., 162.

107 Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 130.

108 Wagnleitner, Herz, 240—2, 249-53.

109 Ibid., 523—4; Rauchensteiner,
Stalinplatz 4, 152.

no Bethouart, Bataille, 115;

Rauchensteiner, Stalinplatz 4, 82.
in Williams, Adenauer, 328.

112 Ibid., 332.

113 Ibid., 331.

114 Ibid., 332.

115 Ibid., 333.

116 Ibid., 334.

117 Young, France, 204—7.

118 Poidevin, Schuman, 77.

CONCLUSION

1 Williams, Adenauer, 341.

2 Donhoff, Weit ist der Weg nach Osten,
305-6.

3 Staritz, DDR, 34.

4 Ibid., 34-5.

5 MacDonogh, The Last Kaiser, 196;
the idea that the Kaiser was inter¬
ested in European unity has been
severely mocked by Volker Ulrich in

583

NOTES

Die Zeit: see ‘Der Kaiser lacht!’, 16
March 2000.

6 Poidevin, Schuman, 84.

7 Young, France, 41.

8 Jtinger, Der Friede, 56, 60, 63.

9 Young, France, 9—10.

10 Ibid., 10—11.

11 Poidevin, Schuman, 84.

12 Gollancz, In Darkest Germany, 16.

13 Robert Birley, Britain in Europe:
Reflections on the Development of a

European Society, Reith Lectures,
London 1949, 1—2.

14 Young, France, 11, 13.

15 Ibid., 229.

16 Margret Boveri, Der Verrat im XX.
Jahrhundert —fur und gegen die Nation,
Hamburg 1956, 8; Philippe Burrin,
La France a Vheure allemande, Paris
1995 , 467-

17 Clark, Calculated Risk, 447—8.

18 Doblin, Schicksalsreise, 412, 408.

584

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